


A Sermon in Church

by Ethan1234



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Bullying, Christmas, Comfort/Angst, Family Angst, Fighting, Gen, Harassment, Justin was an asshole, Monty was an asshole, Scripture References, church
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 06:40:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16718272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethan1234/pseuds/Ethan1234
Summary: A fight between the two Jensen brothers leaves one of them hating the other. Will a sermon at one of the most unexpected places be enough to save the brotherhood between them?





	1. Mistaken Apple of the Forbidden Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by RealDaveofDaves' "A Maze of Moments" and Bitterblue33's "A Destiny Which Makes Us Brothers."
> 
> Hey! I'm a new fanfic writer for the 13RW fandom, and I have been heavily inspired to write fanfic during the hiatus. I don't really have a lot of experience writing, but I thought, "Hey, why not?" So, here's my attempt at making a piece of fanfic, set during Christmas time, eight months after the adoption of Justin Foley. Enjoy!

**December 14, 2018**  
To say the least, one could never have expected a brotherly duo much like the one between the two Jensen brothers. Ask anyone who goes to Liberty High; Like, _seriously_? Clay Jensen and Justin Foley (now Justin _Jensen_ ) becoming… _brothers?_  How the fuck does that even make sense?

Try putting it into context: On one hand, you have Clay Jensen; he’s practically an emo nerd with good grades who was rumored to be gay at one point, lost the love of his life to suicide, and challenged anyone who was mentioned in her 13-tape-long suicide note. On the other hand, you have Justin Foley; he’s your typical, popular, fuckboy jock who bullied anyone that looked out of place (anyone like Clay), dated ( _and_ fucked) all the ladies who had a crush on him, and became Liberty High’s “golden boy” just for playing basketball. A friendship between them, let alone a brotherhood, would never have blossomed, right?

Well, it’s safe to say that fate is definitely fucked up.

After Hannah’s suicide, her tapes, and the court trial of her parents, Justin was taken into juvenile detention for a month before Clay’s parents called for an emergency custody. But Lainie Jensen wanted something a bit more... permanent.

And all of a sudden, Justin was destined to have a new family. After 17 years of constant neglect and tremendous domestic abuse, he finally got what he has been needing since he was born: a stable family.

It took quite a while to getting used to, especially with Clay and Justin sharing a room, but after a month of living with each other, they formed a close brotherly bond. It has been tested through so many times, but it always prevailed any negative force.

Their past selves have dissolved with every step they took. Clay and Justin transformed into different people, losing their own prideful personas (rooted in either intelligence or athleticism) for more humble ones. It wasn’t before long before their brotherly banter included bro-hugs, “I love you, bro”s, and constant shows of brotherly affection. In simple terms, brotherly _love_.

Eight months later, and it was going to be Justin’s first Christmas with the Jensens. Matt Jensen was working late at the college, doing some work in advanced to have the weekend free. The woman of the house wanted to make sure that everything was going to be great for the newest Jensen in the household, which included shopping in one of Crestmont’s shopping plazas.

“Clay, Justin! I’m going to the plaza! You guys need anything from there?” she yelled as she made her way to the front door, preparing to leave.

Clay was reading the newest edition of Alien Killer Robots on the couch in the TV room. “No, not much… just some more supplies for AP Stats, I guess.”

“Justin! How about you, honey?” Lainie had put on her boots and grabbed her keys near the coat rack.

“Not much… I guess… oh shit… just more food,” Justin responded as he panted. While Clay was exerting his energy reading on the couch, Justin was exercising on the floor next to it, doing push ups as part of his daily exercises. The curls on his hair and his back were dampened with sweat, and Clay could see it glisten from the ceiling light.

“You are going to die of over-exercising. What’s the point of all this?” Clay asked as he looked over his comic, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

“Bro, I gotta train for basketball… also wanna keep in shape, ya know?” Justin responded as he got up from the ground.

“Whatever, man,” his brother replied.

Justin looked at Clay guiltily. “Dude… am I bothering you?” he asked seriously.

Clay looked at Justin, a bit of palpable concern from his expression. “Not really, Justin.”

“Oh.”

Clay rolled his eyes and set down his comic, and with a comforting smile he turned his body completely towards Justin. “Dude, we’ve been living together for eight months now. Don’t worry about bothering me, okay? If you bothering me is bothering you, then I guess you can work out upstairs. Is that okay?”

“Sure, bro!” Justin exclaimed. Then his face turned downcast. “I just… didn’t want to be a problem,” he explained.

Realization then struck Clay in the face like Justin’s basketball when he gets forced to practice with him.

_The fight between Jessica, Alex and Justin. Shit, I forgot._

Two weeks ago, these three teenagers had a heated argument about the “love triangle” (as Zach liked to call it), and it got to a point where insults had to be thrown around. Alex pointed Justin out on his “blatantly entitled behavior that made him everyone’s problem” last year when he was with Jessica before he became homeless, while Justin pointed Alex out on his “fucking sarcastic-ass comments” he likes to use on people. Jessica then ended it with a simple command: _“You guys are both fucked-up, selfish assholes who don’t give a damn about anyone else but themselves. You guys just don’t fucking care! I’m done with you. The both of you! Justin, Alex, stay the hell away from me!”_

“Oh.... I see.” Clay said. “Look. Just give it some time. It was just a small fight, and Jessica and Alex will get over it, okay?”

Justin nodded as he continued to face the ground. “Yeah. I’m fine, Clay. I promise.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I think… maybe I’ll just work out upstairs. That okay?”

Clay smiled. “Sure. Just call me if you need anything, and I mean anything. It’s gonna be fine, I promise.”

“No problem, Clay.” Justin smiled back at Clay as he continued down the hallway and up the stairs.

Justin walked inside Clay's bedroom (they both call it their own room) and turned around to the mirror next to the door. He posed in front of it by showing off his arms to the mirror.

“Damn, I look good!” he exclaimed as he was satisfied with himself.

Justin still couldn’t believe that he had been able to build up his physique, which is easily identifiable with a glance at his body. It was still a wonder to him, that he was finally with a family that took care of him, fed him, and let him have a place to sleep so that he could live much healthier. When Justin first came into the Jensen household, he was as skinny as a twig from being homeless and in juvie for a month, with almost no muscle tone at all. But it only took just a month after living with the Jensens to see progress showing, and he was able to obtain the athletic physique he used to be known for. It was the result of having a family that takes good care of him, just for the sake of being a member of it.

The best part? Justin didn’t have to be a dick to anyone anymore, like the jock he used to be. Instead, living with the Jensens made him a more respectful and friendlier person, in contrast with the bully he was less than a year ago. That was his ultimate transformation.

Justin laid down on the floor next to his his couch on the left side of the bedroom, back against the floor in a sit-up position. When he was officially adopted, Matt and Lainie asked Justin whether or not he wanted to have a separate bedroom away from Clay. While Justin reluctantly accepted the offer, he often slept in Clay's room for the sole reason that it was much more comforting to sleep near his brother. Surprisingly, Clay didn't mind it at all; recently, they both had experienced battles with their own inner demons, but the sheer presence of each other was, and continues to be, calming. This led to Justin hanging out in Clay's room sometimes. 

In the span of time that it would take Clay to do twenty sit-ups (with rest breaks), Justin was able to easily do thirty reps without rest; he then did another set of thirty after.

Justin’s glance shifted to the basketball on top of the chair next to Clay’s desk after he was done with his second set of exercises. Resting, he stood and walked up to the desk and took the ball into his left hand, and he noticed the little picture frame on the top of Clay’s desk. It displayed a selfie of Hannah and Clay smiling while working together in the Crestmont, with a mountain of candy boxes behind them.

_Still can’t believe I fucked up her life… I hope she knows I’m sorry..._

Justin set the picture frame back on the desk and held the basketball in both of his hands. He then attempted to spin the basketball while balancing on his fingers. It took several tries, but he was able to do it for at least seven seconds at a time.

“Damn!” Justin exclaimed as the ball was balancing on his hand. “I still got it,” he said to himself, smiling with complete satisfaction.

He tried walking around with it as he balanced the ball, wanting to expand his abilities in this little activity.

And, that...

That was his mistake.

Suddenly, as he neared the table, the ball started to lose his balance. “No, no, no, stay!” Justin exclaimed as he try to catch with the other ball. What he didn’t realize was that his other arm that tried to catch it went against the ball with too much force upwards. This led the ball bouncing off in the other direction.

It was headed for Clay’s desk.

“Oh shit, the picture!”

Before he could even try to save it, the ball bounced hard on the desk. The picture frame, the one holding the picture of Hannah and Clay, fell off the desk and broke on the ground. An unmistakable **shatter** filled the silence in the room.

“Fuck!”

Justin kneeled down to see the broken picture frame, brokenness flooded in his facial expression. While the picture obtained no scratches, the glass on the frame was shattered. A tiny piece of broken glass laid right next to Justin’s hand as he kept observing the debris.

There was no way to fix it.

“He’s gonna hate me… oh shit, what do I do?” he asked himself as he tried cleaning up the mess.

Just then, he heard his brother coming up the stairs.

“Justin? Justin, what happened up there?” he asked.

“Fuck,” Justin cursed to himself.

_What am I gonna do?_


	2. Cain's Outburst to Abel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genesis 4:8b: “While they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him.”  
> 1 John 3:15a: “Anyone who hates a brother or sister is a murderer...”
> 
> WARNING: There are some hurtful pieces of language that is used by an angsty teenager out of complete rage. Prepare yourself for the hurtful words this teenager might say.
> 
> This is what happens when your crazy jock brother destroys something that is so precious to you, not remembering that your brother isn’t the mean and hurtful person you ought to make him.

“Oh shit! Didn’t see _that_ coming…”

Clay was reading his comic, surprised to see the turn of events in his newest edition of Alien Killer Robots. He wanted to take a sneak peak of the continuation of the comic’s narrative before giving it to Justin and watching his reaction. From the story itself, he concluded that Justin was going to “flip his shit,” as he says.

_Justin is soooo gonna love this… why the fuck would he exercise instead of reading this comic?_

He silently read for roughly five minutes before he happened to hear that sound.

***shatter***

He glanced up at the ceiling. His eyebrows raised as he tried to piece together what could have happened upstairs. And then, he remembered who was the only one upstairs at the time.

_Oh, Justin… what did he do now?_

He rolled his eyes as he stood up from the couch and walked to the staircase that led up to the second floor. A sensation of nervousness simmered in the depths of his stomach. “Justin? Justin, what happened up there?” Clay asked as he made his way to the stairs.

Clay could hear him make out the word “fuck” come out of Justin’s lips.

“Justin, you better not have destroyed the vase that Mom got for the flowers Dad gave!” Clay yelled as he completed his climbup the set of stairs. He walked down the hallway and into his bedroom, where he found Justin kneeling on the ground, his back facing him.

“Justin, what happened?”

Justin turned around to see the complete confusion on Clay’s face; however, Justin’s face was completely destroyed with guilt. “Clay, bro, I didn’t mean to do it, I swear!”

The nervousness slowly simmered to rage as he understood what Justin said to him. Clay walked up to where Justin was kneeling, asking, “What the fuck did you do? I said--”

And that’s when he saw it.

The broken picture frame.

The one with Hannah on it.

He observed the debris, looking at it with complete shock. Clay observed the broken frame with the picture of Hannah underneath. There was a large crack from the center of the glass that outstretched to all sides of the frame. A hole was formed in the glass pane, and the broken pieces of glass that could fit the hole where lying next to the frame.

Clay just realized what happened: His brother had just destroyed the picture frame with a picture of the person that he used to love.

Correction: the person he was still _in love with_.

Clay turned his head to Justin with his eyebrows pointed downwards, teeth gritted, and glaring eyes watching Justin’s guilty expression. His face garnered a hot, flaming rage. The fury in his face was unmistakable, and Justin knew he was the reason why.

“Justin, you _fucking_ idiot.”

“Clay, I’m sorry.”

“Are you sorry?!” Clay was raising his voice now.

“Clay, please…” Justin’s eyes pleaded with forgiveness.

“What was it, huh?! Answer me! Why did you fucking destroy that picture?!”

Justin kept staring at the ground.

“You had _no_ right. Absolutely no _fucking_ right!” As soon as he finished his sentence, Clay shoved Justin on his chest with anger, causing Justin to shove back a little. Justin was strong enough to not be affected, but he let himself get hurt for the sake of Clay’s outburst being released out of his system.

“Do you realize what you have done? What mindless thing you’ve done in my life?!”

Brokenness lingered on his face, but he didn’t raise his voice back. “Clay, I swear, I didn’t mean to--”

“Fuck you, Justin!” Clay interrupted him. “This!” Clay shouted as he pointed to the picture with his right arm. “This was one of the last things I had left of her! She _gave_ this to me for Christmas, the same _FUCKING_ holiday we are in right now, and you just _had_ to destroy it!” he yelled.

Justin looked down, averting his eyes from Clay’s gaze.

“Justin, I know you didn’t like her, but why?! Why would you destroy something of someone I love, huh?!”

Justin looked back up, his face trying to hold in tears. “Clay, you can’t say that. I liked her. It was on acci-”

Clay only heard the “I liked her” and he instantly reacted.

“BULLSHIT!” he yelled, mouth completely opened. “First, the photo, then the list, then the lie about the rape? And now you mean to tell me that you fucking liked her?!”

Justin’s face was completely destroyed as he let Clay keep talking.

“More importantly, how the _fuck_ did I deserve this, Justin? How?”

“You didn’t, Clay. It was an accident!”

“Oh, so that excuses it then? Because it was a fucking accident?” Clay said, not pausing in any of his words.

Justin looked back down on the ground in shame. He knew what the answer to the question was.

“I thought you were smarter than that, Justin. But I guess you really are a dumb, junkie jock who doesn’t give a shit about anyone.”

The words cut through Justin’s heart like a sharp, piercing sword. After all this time, Clay still thought of him as “dumb,” as a “junkie,” and a “jock” who doesn’t care. His own brother called him that. At this moment, Justin tried holding in the tears from the pain Clay caused in his heart.

“Clay, d-did you just--”

“Shut up.”

“Bro--”

“Don’t _‘bro’_ me. I’m not your _fucking_ brother. Not anymore,” Clay hissed.

Those sentences, those ten words, completely crushed his soul. He never thought that his own brother would claim that they weren’t even related anymore, even though that by blood, they aren’t. Justin let a tear flow down his face as he kept looking at Clay, recovering from losing his mind in complete rage.

There was a silence that lingered for a minute or two, with Clay catching his breath after yelling at Justin. Clay looked at the mess that his brother made. The mess that _Justin_ made. He’s not related to him anymore, at least in his mind.

“I need to get the fuck out of here,” Clay whispered to himself. The rage behind Clay’s voice could have the power to crush the spirits of anyone else around him. Clay then left the room where Justin was still standing in, watching Clay as he abandoned him by himself.

The tears that he held in started to flow down his cheeks. It was the first time Justin started crying by himself because of his own brother.

\-----

Clay needed to get out of the fucking room. Not with that horrible excuse of a brother he had, who just mindlessly destroyed whatever the fuck he wanted to. He had trusted him, in fact, he didn’t want to admit it but he _loved_ him up to this point. But Justin, like always, had to fuck it up.

He needed to get out of the house. Because it was a Friday, he was still in his jeans from school and the sun was still up. Even though it was 5:30pm and it was near sunset, he needed to get the fuck out anyway.

He raced down the stairs, took the cardigan that was hanging on the coat hanger, opened the front door and raced outside.

_Fuck Justin. Fuck him. He’s better off alone._

His timing must have been pretty shit, because Lainie was already back from the shopping plaza, pulling up and parking the car on the street adjacent to the house. “Shit,” Clay muttered to himself, before his mother came out of the front door and walked to where Clay was walking.

“How did you get back here so early?” Clay asked her, trying to hide the simmering rage in his own body.

“All the lines were full in the stores. It wasn’t worth it,” Lainie answered. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Out,” Clay answered. “Anywhere but here,” he said as he passed by his mom and started walking down the street.

Lainie knew something was going on. “Honey, what happened? Tell me,” she asked.

Clay continued to walk past her, back facing towards her.

“Tell me now,” she ordered again, now with a much firmer voice.

Clay turned around and faced his mother, looking with an exasperated look. “Just ask the junkie you call your ‘second son,’” he answered back, then continued to walk down the street.

“Clay Matthew, you come back here instant. Clay Matthew Jensen, I swear!” she yelled as Clay continued to walk. “That’s it, you’re grounded!” she yelled at Clay, and she walked inside the house to find Justin.

“Justin? Honey, where are you?” She searched the living room first to find her adopted son, knowing full well the damage control she had to take care of between her two sons.

And softly, she could hear the shuddering breaths of her adopted son, crying in despair. It was coming from Clay’s bedroom.

“Justin! I’m coming!” she called. She ran up the stairs, maternal instincts giving the adrenaline she needed to run up the stairs as fast as she could.

She reached the door of the brothers’ bedroom and opened it. “Justin?” she asked as she peeped her head through.

When she opened the door, she found Justin cradled on the ground, crying to himself.

“Justin! Sweetheart, what happened?” Lainie came up and sat down next to Justin, and she took her arms and cradled the crying boy into a hug. Justin fell into the grasp of his adopted mother and buried his head into her shoulders. He was crying almost uncontrollably, but he held onto Lainie for support.

Justin struggled to speak as he kept sobbing, but he managed to do it.

“I-I b-broke Clay’s picture frame, and he--” Justin said before clearing his throat, then continued, “h-he called me dumb jock and a junkie…” He then continued to cry on her shoulder and Lainie tightened her cuddle on Justin. She wanted her adopted son to know that he wasn’t anything her firstborn said about him.

“Don’t listen to him. You are not anything he said. You’re an amazing son; you just made a mistake,” she said, comforting Justin and his shuddering breaths as he cried. “I love you, Justin. I don’t think of you that way, I swear.”

The hug continued to last without the both of them saying something; just the comforting presence of the hug with each other was enough to make the hug meaningful.

——-

Clay was running. He didn’t know where he was gonna go. He didn’t know what to do once he got to somewhere. Unfortunately, he didn't know how he was gonna get back home in the middle of the night once he wants to come back.

All he could think right now was how betrayed he felt.

How Justin fucking stabbed him in the back by ruining one of the last things he had to remember Hannah by.

_Just gotta keep running. Away from that shithead. Away from my parents who decided to take him in. Away from home._

Clay ran six blocks towards the direction of the sunset, causing him to slow down to rest his legs. His body was drenched in sweat, and there was pain slight pain and soreness in his upper legs. Yet, somehow, running away felt refreshing.

He felt satisfied that he was able to run _away_ from Justin instead of running _with_ Justin. Ever since the school year started, Justin had to run often to practice stamina for basketball. As always, he would always invite Clay to run along with him. But, given that Justin was faster than Clay most of the time, Clay felt like he was a burden on the shoulders of his (former) brother whenever he had to slow down.

And now he was free from him.

_He doesn’t love me. And I don’t love him. So much for being “brothers”…_

Brothers.

_At least that’s what I think. He’s not my brother anymore…._

_...but I don’t think I needed to say that he was a “dumb, junkie jock” … maybe that was a bit rude…_

_...but he deserved it! He destroyed my picture frame! He’ll probably understand…_

_...right?_

Clay walked another two blocks, and then he stopped to catch his breath. The rage that once boiled in his stomach died down, but instead, a tiny fire of guilt was felt by the angsty teenager.

He brought up his hands to his face, letting it fall into his palms. Clay couldn’t take the emotional tension of this family anymore. He needed it all to stop. All this drama.

_Ugh, why do I feel goddamn guilty?! He fucking deserved it, right?_

Clay then looked back up at the street corner he was next to. He observed the buildings that were adjacent to the different roads. Most of them were regular houses with their lamp on their porch turned on. They varied in color, from blue to gray and everything in between.

One of them was a church with a sign labeled “New Grace Church and Fellowship” outside the front door. The building itself looked a little like a cathedral, colored gray on the outside, with towers stretching as high as roughly fifty feet. It was Christmas decorated, with littles statues of the Nativity displayed outside. On one of the towers, there was a brown cross signifying the faith of the church and what exactly it represented.

Clay walked across the street and up to the church’s front doors. He deliberated whether or not to stay in the church for shelter as he observed the Nativity statues, since it was just starting to get cold.

Then, he heard a group of people singing from inside the church. He turned his head to set his eyes on the wooden door of the church.

_Holy shit… they sound… angelic or something._

He opened the door of the church and stepped inside.

Clay didn’t know it, but it was his first step into receiving the sermon of his life. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, that's a lot take in. So, where do we start?
> 
> Consider the brotherhood between Clay and Justin "officially damaged." I really tried my hardest to adopt the character of Clay into my understanding and writing. I felt that this would be his typical reaction to his brother messing up; don't forget, Justin did a thing or two to Hannah that was definitely fucked up, hence the reaction. But, you can tell that this isn't who Justin is anymore.
> 
> Get ready for the next chapter, where we will meet Pastor Mike and his pastorly advice, as well as getting the chance to see Clay's reaction.
> 
> NOTE: The next chapter will include the discussion of Christian principles as well as advice rooted from a pastoral point of view, however it is NOT INTENDED in any way, shape, or form to support the "forcing" of other religions on other people as well as "shoving religion" down people's throats. I just wanna clear that up so that there are no misconceptions about the fanfic I'm writing or about how I really am as a person; I really just wanna share work with others around me, that's all. :)
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading this chapter and I hope you guys are ready for the next one. See y'all soon!


	3. Reluctant Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Clay is about to get his sermon, he wasn't too excited about what exactly it was going to entail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING (not really, it shouldn't have to matter but it kinda does tho): if you are uncomfortable with religious texts being read or spiritual practices (aka praying) being done, this chapter may not be right with you. 
> 
> Also, Clay's kinda a dick, tbh. Just... you know, making you guys aware.
> 
> Other than that, hope you enjoy!

_“Long lay the world in sin and error pining,_

_Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth._

_A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,_

_For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn._

 

_Fall on your knees! O hear the angel voices!_

_O night divine, O night when Christ was born;_

_O night divine, O night, O night Divine.”_

 

The singing was much more beautiful as the choir sang the chorus.

Clay stepped inside to find a reception area, with double doors at the end of the hall. The doors led to a massive sanctuary, lined with stained glass windows and candles lit with a small fire. For some reason, there weren’t pews, but there were regular black chairs that the church used inside, and each chair had a Bible underneath. The room itself was very massive, filling up to probably 300 people (according to Clay’s mental calculations) and stretching around three stories tall.

On the stage was, indeed, a choir of thirty-some people between the ages of twenty and fifty, singing with green robes and holding candles while reading the hymn book. The conductor was very calm as she led the choir on.

It was beautiful.

 

_“Led by the light of Faith serenely beaming,_

_With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand._

_So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,_

_Here come the wise men from the Orient land...”_

 

Clay took a seat in one of the chairs in the back of the chapel, finding a spot to observe the choir without feeling like an interruption. He sat down, wiping his face from the sweat that still happened to linger, and listened to the voices of the choir.

And it was that moment he was about to get his sermon.

“Hello there, young fellow.” A man spoke to Clay from behind the row of chairs he was in. He turned around to see who it was, finding an African-American man, roughly fifty or sixty years old, clad with a suit, tie, and glasses on his wrinkled face. His voice was calming and inviting, much like a father. Clay’s response was awkward since he didn’t expect to talk to someone while the choir sang.

“Welcome to New Grace,” the man said.

“Um… hello,” Clay uttered as he looked up to the man. “W-what’s up?”

The man tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. “Is this your first time here at the church?”

Clay was surprised to hear the question. “How did you know I was--”

“You were observing the choir with much attention. I figured you haven’t been here before,” the man interrupted. It was true; he had not been in church for a while now. Clay wasn’t much of a churchgoing person, although he did have a tiny, miniscule belief in a higher power. He even implied it when he visited that other church for Hannah’s funeral.

Hannah’s _funeral._

_The picture._

_Justin destroyed it._

“May I sit?” he asked as he pointed to the chair two chairs to the left to him.

“Uh.. y-yeah, I guess,” Clay reluctantly replied, which urged the man to sit in the chair he indicated. Clay eyed him as he had to swerve around the teenager and sit down.

“So…” Clay started. “Who are you?”

“My name is Mike Brown, one of the pastors at this church, but you can call me Pastor Mike,” he answered as he reached an empty hand for Clay to shake. Reluctantly, Clay took it and gave a firm handshake.

“Um… I’m Clay. Um, Clay Jensen.” he answered back awkwardly as he let go of his hand from Pastor Mike’s.

“Well, since you aren’t here with your parents, why have you come? In need of advice? Fellowship from my brothers and sisters in Christ?” Pastor Mike asked as he pointed to the other ushers on the other side of the chapel.

“No,” Clay said sharply. “And even if I did, why would I get advice from you? We just fucking met,” he answered back, making the pastor raise his eyes back at him.

“Excuse me, sorry… it’s just--”

“I get it, Mr. Jensen,” he responded as he raised his hand to Clay, urging him to stop. “We haven’t gotten to know each other yet, as I understand your point.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, here at the church, we bring no judgement at all,” Pastor Mike calmly responded.

Clay raised his eyebrows, amused at his statement. “Really? Because aren’t you guys known for hating gays and criticizing people for not believing what they can _fucking_ believe in?” he snarled.

Pastor Mike’s eyes turned downcast. Clay sensed this, feeling guilt for answering back yet again.

“Sorry, it’s just… it’s just what some of my LGBT classmates say. I-I’m sorry for using curse words again, Mi--I mean, Pastor Mike.”

The pastor sighed, then took his glasses off and closed his eyes before speaking. “Mr. Jensen, we are aware of the misconceptions we face as children of God. We are often seen and labeled as hypocrites, but I assure you this is not our intent.”

He paused to bend down and pick up the Bible in the seat in front of him. He then held it in front of Clay to pass it to him, which Clay then took in his hands. “Can you turn to Matthew 7, please?”

“Wait, why?”

“Please, I think it will be interesting for you.”

Clay looked at him weirdly, then took the Bible in his hands and opened it. “Um… sure,” he answered reluctantly, flipping the pages to the book of Matthew, then slowly searching for a big number 7 in black font.

“Found it.”

“Good! Can you try reading the first two verses?”

Clay’s eyes widened. He didn't expect to read in front of a pastor before coming here, but he decided that he should try it out. “Umm, ok,” he said before he cleared his throat and started reading: _“Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”_

Clay looked up to find Pastor Mike looking intently at him. Pastor Mike then explained, “You see, Jesus told us Himself that we shouldn’t judge. It isn’t something we should do because we are all accountable for sin, and we are all to be judged for it as humans, whether we are Christian or not; this is the reason why real Christians don’t target other people or those who do different things.”

Clay listened in on his message with more and more intent: “We are all accountable as humans to sins, and that includes you, me, and everyone in the whole world! We are all not perfect, so we as Christians don’t judge because the same thing can be said about us, Mr. Jensen. You understand?”

“Yeah, I get it. You guys don’t mean to judge. It’s just that... w-well, in social media, that’s what some people say, though,” Clay responded, genuinely caring about his message for the first time.

“Exactly,” the pastor said with a smile on his face. It felt great knowing that one more person knew about who the church really was.

There was a little pause of silence, a sense of calmness that was obtained even after the choir stopped singing. Several seconds later, the teenager wanted to ask a question to the pastor.

“Pastor Mike?”

“Yes, Mr. Jensen?”

“If I was a bit rude, I just want to apologize. You didn't deserve that honestly,” Clay said earnestly.

“It’s ok. I appreciate your apology. Promise,” the pastor lightheartedly replied.

“Wait. Really? That simple?”

“Yes, Mr. Jensen. I try to forgive easily, just like God would want me to do. But, can you at least tell me what’s going on?”

Clay’s eyes raised. “Wait… what do you mean?” he asked as he raised his eyes in confusion.

Mike turned his head as he continued speaking, “Young man, you wouldn’t have come to church for no reason. Also, your face has been looking downcast. I think you might be dealing with a problem, Mr. Jensen.”

Clay looked down and crossed his arms.

“No, sir. I don’t really have a problem,” he answered quietly.

Clay turned his head from the pastor’s gaze, hiding a sorrowful frown from his expression. The shyful gesture assured the pastor that his assumptions were correct.

“Mr. Jensen, please,” the pastor pleaded softly. “I promise I won’t judge or tell anyone.”

Clay looked up to meet the pastor’s eyes again.

“I only want to help you, Mr. Jensen. Please.”

The teenager stared outwardly towards the choir in the sanctuary for a certain span of time. He didn’t know exactly how long, but it was somewhere between five and ten seconds.

_Hell, how can I even know what’s right anymore? I thought Justin was…_

_was…_

_was my brother. Wait!_

_Isn’t he though?_

_But…_

_...why did he--_

“Mr. Jensen?” he heard the pastor ask.

Clay snapped out of his gaze and closed his eyes. He knew there wasn’t gonna be any other way except for telling the truth.

“What’s wrong, son?”

He opened his eyes and folded his hands together, leaving them on his lap as he began to talk.

“I-it’s my brother,” he shyfully replied.

“Your brother?”

“Yes. His name’s Justin. He’s my-- _was_ my brother…” Clay said.

“ _Was_ your brother? You just said he _is_ your broth--”

“Look, I don’t know! I just--” he stopped to find the right words. His left hand engulfed the fist he made in his right hand. “I just-- I mean, he’s-- like i-it’s just so complicated. It’s just…”

Clay closed his eyes as he found himself struggling to speak. When the pastor sensed this, he guessed upon his situation.

“Did you… have a fight?”

Clay bowed his head in shame.

“Kinda,” he replied quietly.

“Kinda?”

“H-he broke my picture of this girl who I used to like. Then I got really pissed and really upset…”

The pastor then stared ahead, figuring out how to solve the issue, and looked back at the sorrow teenager.

“Can you explain to me in further detail?”

“I-it’s just that he was exercising for basketball when I heard this whole noise in hi-- our room. I found the picture, and then I got really angry at him, and...  here we are,” he ended as he shrugged.

“Is it bothering you?”

Clay pondered at the question, then nodded in the direction of the pastor. “Because I feel like I hurt him, and I did something wrong, I guess.”

Pastor Mike took his Bible and set it aside on the chair in the row in front of him, adjusting his position so that his body faced Clay more. “Mr. Jensen, I want to do something important for you.”

Clay raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“May I… pray for you?”

“Wait… what?”

“Pray,” he amusily responded. “This is a church, after all. Also, I usually pray before my personal council meetings too. Need to ask the Lord for strength, after all.”

Clay pondered at the request, staring at the choir again. They began to sing the song “What Child is This” in the key of A (or was it B? G?).

 

_“What Child is this, who laid to rest_

_On Mary's lap is sleeping?_

_Whom Angels greet with anthems sweet,_

_While shepherds watch are keeping?”_

 

He had nothing to lose with a prayer spoken for him. He probably lost his family’s love anyway. What’ll a prayer do?

“S-sure,” Clay responded, looking back straight at the pastor before he began to fold his hands and closes his eyes.

Suddenly, he felt a touch on his shoulder, and the sensation felt like a broad hand. He opened his eyes and glanced at Pastor Mike bowing his head and grabbing his shoulder, preparing himself for the prayer.

Clay closed his eyes, and Pastor Mike cleared his throat:

_“Dear Lord, Father in Heaven, we come before you in a time of desperation. I lift up Mr. Clay Jensen as he is struggling with problems with his brother Justin at home. May you give us guidance and help us understand…”_

The prayer was monotonous and a tiny bit long, but through it all, it felt good to know that someone wanted to help out.

He couldn’t help it, but the pastor’s prayer, the singing choir, the church himself got him to say a prayer of his own:

_I don’t know if You’re there, but if You are, just help me fix this. Please._

He finished as the Pastor finished up as well: _“...we thank You, Father. In Jesus’ name,_ amen _.”_

The pastor opened his eyes, then took the Bible adjacent to him before speaking back to Clay.

“Now, then, tell me more about what happened.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SO SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT! Lately, I have been battling some personal problems with schoolwork and drama, so I couldn't get the chance to release this earlier because I didn't think I was mentally able to write more out. I also had a school performance to do, which brought in some extra nervousness and anxiety. Sadly, I also started to feel a tiny bit like a hypocrite writing, since there is Christian doctrine mentioned that I am fully aware I sometimes break or disobey; BUT, after talking to my pastor, he told me that I shouldn't have to be afraid to write because my sins shouldn't trap my soul and who I am. Also, I got really inspired to write more, so thank you guys for doing that! 
> 
> The chapter's a bit... cringy, but I tried so hard not to sound "biased" or anything... the whole "hating the LGBT" thing was something that I experienced in freshman year; I was sorta verbally harassed by some of my classmates for being Christian by being barraged with "Oh, you're Christian, so what are your opinions on LGBT? Abortion? Trump? Evolution? This controversy? That controversy?" in a very, very snarky way. I even had someone religiously discriminate me for "believing in something that's not real." I didn't feel comfortable and it made me feel bad about myself for living in a certain way, but I'm getting over it.
> 
> I hold absolutely nothing against the LGBT community, because they are precious, human beings who deserve a slice of happiness, just like every single person in the world. We shouldn't have to discriminate because we are all human inside, and we all share the same emotions that are affected by every single person around us. :)
> 
> So... yeah! I'm a tiny bit proud with how this turned out, but I am dedicated into making sure I have to write on this more. Thank you for your support, and I am gonna prepare for a new chapter and try to get it out as soon was possible. Thanks!


	4. The Truth Will Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “See, the truth isn't always the most exciting version of things, or the best or the worst. It's somewhere in between. But it deserves to be heard and remembered. The truth will out, like someone said once. It remains.” -Hannah Baker, Tape 1
> 
> For Clay, sometimes it’s hard to confess the truth. Really fucking hard. But, nevertheless, it comes out anyway. Usually, telling the truth doesn't involve a lecture on a terrible emotion, such as... hate.
> 
> This was the exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, just wanna say that there will be teachings from a Christian pastor. If you're not a fan of that, you may not like it, but I encourage you to read it, as you may find it very, very insightful.
> 
> (even I learned something writing this chapter!)

Clay processed the question, blanking on what to say. There wasn’t anything else to mention.

But that’s what he wanted himself to think.

“Uh… it’s just that, Pastor Mike. There wasn’t really anything else to…” Clay trailed in his response.

“Are you sure about that, son?” the pastor asked, a smirk of skepticism reaching his face as he pondered the boy staring out into the open space of the church again.

Clay knew it, though; he knew the pastor was right. There was something else that he needed to say, something that was bothering him with a small pang of guilt inside his stomach. He glanced back up to Pastor Mike looking back down at him.

“I-I don’t really know, but something’s bothering me a little,” Clay quietly replied, lying in front of the one person he felt he shouldn’t lie to.

The pastor leaned in a little forward in his direction. “Is it still about the fight you had with your brother?”

“Um… I-I think so, well… I’m not sure…” he reluctantly answered, his eyebrows lowered in an expression of guilt.

Mike redjusted his position in the chair, looking up into the ceiling as he pondered at the situation. What exactly could he do? Could he even fix this, even in the Name of the Lord? Will their friendship and brotherhood ever be restored as a testament to God’s glory?

He couldn’t find out just on the information he had alone. He realized he needed more, and Clay wasn’t gonna enjoy it. To cover all the bases, Mike closed his eyes in silence:

_Lord, I forgot to ask for the patience. I may need that from You, so help me please._

“Well,” the pastor opened his eyes and looked back at Clay’s watchful figure, “maybe it’s something that happened in the fight. Why don’t you tell me a little more about what happened?”

“I told you everything, though.

“Go more in depth,” he calmly asked. “Anything that you guys might have said, or gestured, or anything that came up as a topic of conversation?”

“A _topic of conversation_?” Clay amusily responded.

“Look, I’m only just trying to help out here. You said something’s bothering you, Mr. Jensen. Something from the fight… so, why don’t you think about what happened?”

Clay was about to lie again when he gave in to the urge to stop. Instead, he did what was asked of him and started to self-reflect. In the most vivid way possible, his thoughts replayed the fight between Justin and himself as he closed his eyes for the briefest moment.

All he could think about were the words he said.

_“Justin, you fucking idiot.”_

_“I thought you were smarter than that, Justin. But I guess you really are a dumb, junkie jock who doesn’t give a shit about anyone.”_

_“…a dumb, junkie jock…”_

_“...I’m not your fucking brother…”_

_“...not anymore.”_

He opened his eyes again, looking back at Pastor Mike. More gult flooded back into his stomach. It was kinda like one of Justin’s punches whenever he play-wrestles with him, but it was much more aching.

“Well?” the pastor asked.

Hannah’s tapes had a sudden ring in his head.

_The truth will out, like someone once said…_

“It’s the things I said.” Clay answered as he bowed his head in shame.

“Okay… what did you tell him, Mr. Jensen?”

“I didn’t _tell_ him things,” he answered coldly.

The pastor raised his eyebrows, bewildered. “W-what do you mean?”

“I…” Clay started, feeling more guilt flooding into his body. “...I-I _called_ him things.”

The pastor readjusted himself in the chair, understanding seeping into his mind. “You called your brother some things? What exactly did you call him?”

Clay opened his mouth to talk, but not a single word could come out. He couldn’t bring himself to recall the things he called him, knowing that those words could crush a spirit easily.

The gravity of his insults started to pound his heart with shame, a feeling that can only be characterized as a wave of evil discomfort. Just before Clay could finally muster up the courage to confess, the pastor interrupted him.

“Mr. Jensen, you can tell me,” he reassured again, giving a nod of encouragement.

“Y-you promise you won’t judge?” he asked, a glimmer of fear in his eyes.

“Yes, young man. Remember… we don’t judge here. I promise,” the pastor said, laying his hand on the Bible on his lap as he ended his promise.

Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he won’t judge Clay of his wrongdoings.

There was only one way to actually find out.

“I-I called him an idiot,” Clay answered.

“An idiot? Just an _idiot_?”

“No. There’s more,” he shamefully answered.

The pastor looked closer into Clay, awaiting worse and worse things he said. How hard could this get?

“I called him a _fucking_ idiot,” Clay continued, continuing to keep his eyes closed in shame as he kept talking.

“I also called him a dumb, junkie jock,” he added quietly and slowly, the guilt in his voice obvious to anyone who took a look at him.

The pastor didn’t have anything to say after his confession, leaving a trail of silence. It was very uncomfortable, so the pastor needed to break it.

“Wow. Um…” Like Clay, he had a little trouble finding the words to piece his emotions. “...that must’ve been very intense for you to hav--”

“There’s more,” Clay interrupted, making the pastor look back at him with the same bewilderment a few moments ago. “There’s one more thing I haven’t mentioned.”

The pastor then tilted his head toward him, waiting for his answer again.

“I said that he wasn’t my brother anymore,” Clay said, the guilt in his voice staying clear in his speech.

Again, the pastor was taken aback, not knowing what else to say. Should he be comforting him? Scolding him for calling Justin those names? Praying for him with a bottle of oil he uses only for anointment? Doubts of uncertainty started to seep into his skin, thinking of a way to solve the problem.

All that could come out of the man’s mouth was, “Is that all?”

Clay brought his head back up to meet the pastor’s gaze again. Shamefully, he answered back, “Yes, sir. That’s all.”

Mike shifted his gaze back to the boy in front of him after pondering for a few moments.

“Okay,” Mike said in a rather unmoved fashion after re-adjusting his glasses once more.

“Okay? Just _okay_?” Clay asked, confused by the reaction his pastor gave off.

“Well, no, not just _okay_ . But I _do_ believe that we can fix this.”

A glimmer of hope started to form in Clay’s stomach, along with the accompanying guilt that kept growing in his veins. “Really?” he asked as he kept his eyes on the pastor.

“Yes, son. I’m sure of it.” Mike took his Bible and held it in his grasp a little more towards his sitting body.

Clay let out a little smile. A sad one, in fact, as he really didn’t like the situation at hand, at all.

He never really wanted to admit it, but Clay didn’t actually like the fight with his brother. Despite the constant spewings he made against Justin in his fight, he noticed that he didn’t feel a lot of satisfaction that came from it. As Clay kept staring out into the curvature of the church’s walls, he started to ponder on why he even had a fight with Justin in the first place. Why, exactly, did he want to hurt Justin the way he did? Why, exactly, did he want to call Justin those names?

But then again, he remembered the situation.

The broken picture.

Hannah gave that to him for Christmas.

Hannah. The girl that died.

The girl that Clay still loved.

But the question is: why did Justin break it?

He never thought about that question. Why? For what reason did Justin have that led him to break the picture?

_My picture?_

“Mr. Jensen?”

Once again, Clay was immediately snapped out of his gaze. He then turned back to Pastor Mike, who was outstretching his arm towards Clay with a Bible in his hand. Surprised, Clay raised his eyebrows at the site of the black, hard-covered book being offered to him.

“What’s this for?”

Now it was Pastor Mike’s turn to be confused, slightly turning his head to his left. “Didn’t you hear me?”

Clay then took the Bible from the pastor’s hand, not knowing what else to day. He couldn’t say that he was dozing off, or he would’ve probably not help him anymore. However, before Clay was able to answer, he was then cut off by the pastor.

“You know what? It doesn’t really matter,” he said, shrugging his arms in dismissal. “I asked you to turn to 1 John 3, as I think it might be helpful for you to read.”

Clay then looked back down to the Bible in front of him. He opened up the hard cover and started to flip the pages, sweeping through the different books of the slightly heavy Bible.

_Genesis… Proverbs… Matthew… Colossians…_

_...1 John._

As he found the correct book, he gently flipped a couple of the thin pages, finding the number three on the bottom left corner. Once he did, he then looked back up to the pastor.

“Okay, I found it.”

“Good! Now can you look at verse 12, please?”

Clay looked back down towards the open Bible and found the verse marked with a twelve. Knowing that the pastor already wanted him to read verses, he cleared his throat and recited the passage:

_“Do not be like Cain, who belonged to the evil one and murdered his brother. And why did he murder him? Because his own actions were evil and his brother’s were righteous.”_

After finishing, Clay looked up to find the pastor looking back at him. “You understand what that means, right? Have you heard about the story of Cain and Abel?”

Clay nodded, even though he couldn’t remember much. “Yeah, it was the one where… uh, Cain killed his brother because of… something about a blessing with God or…”

The pastor smiled. “Yes, Mr. Jensen. Good! You know the story,” he said. Glancing back down at the Bible, he then asked Clay, “Can you also read verse 15?”

“Sure,” Clay answered before picking up the Bible and finding the chapter’s fifteenth verse:

_“Anyone who hates a brother or sister is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life residing in him.”_

The pastor then took of his glasses after glancing at the pages where Clay was reading. “Mr. Jensen, do you understand what this means?”

Clay looked back up at the pastor with confusion, tipping his head to the side a little. “That I’m a murderer?”

“No! No, Mr. Jensen, you’re not like a murderer; I can assure you,” he remarked while patting a hand on Clay’s shoulder as a sign of encouragement, much like a father does to his shaking son.

“Mr. Jensen,” Pastor Mike said, “what this is saying is that hating is a little evil. You really shouldn’t have to hate your brother, much the same way Cain hated Abel.”

“But I don’t hate my brother!” Clay exclaimed, then continuing with a softer tone, “...or, at least I don’t _think_ I do.”

Pastor Mike nodded, showing understanding towards his exclamation. “I know you probably don’t hate your brother, son. You don’t seem like the type of person to hate someone to the death, right?”

“Umm… thanks?” Clay replied, feeling a little awkwardness in his face.

Pastor Mike continued on after making a small smile of amusement. “Even though you probably don’t hate your brother right now, you really shouldn’t have done what you did to him. Those words that you said to him were derived from anger, and it’s ok to be upset.”

Clay listened, nodding his head at what Mike was telling him.

“But, if you get angry, you could start to develop feelings of hatred against your brother. I think you shouldn’t have to feel those things against him, because I believe that they are rooted in evil and ungodliness. If you allow yourself to start feeling hate towards him, what John, the writer of this passage, is saying is that your hate will start to mirror a murderer’s hate. You get what I’m sayin’, son?”

“Yeah,” Clay responded. “I kinda get it, but…”

The pastor observed Clay’s face; he could tell there was a little doubt. “It’s a little hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“Not really; it’s not that I don’t believe, it’s just…” He paused for a minute, trying to word his phrases. After a few seconds, Clay continued saying, “...why would you say that hating is ungodly?”

The pastor readjusted himself in his seat as he heard the question. He, too, was also trying to figure out how to answer this question. He found his answer after pondering for a moment. “You know about some of the qualities of God, right?”

Clay nodded. “I think so. Isn’t He known to be, like, extremely powerful and perfect or something like that?”

“Well, sure. Those are some of His most famous qualities. But, you know what else is another quality of His?”

“What?” Clay asked, leaning in closer to the pastor.

“Love.”

Clay’s brain just put the pieces together; despite that, the pastor continued his explanation.

“In the Bible, it says that God is love. So, because hate would be the exact opposite of love, it would be also be the opposite of God Himself. You get it?”

“Yeah, I do,” Clay answered. “But, does that mean that it’s wrong to get mad?”

“No, it’s not. You can get upset, but God doesn’t really like us hating other people because it’s not something that He would want us to do.”

“Oh, I see,” Clay said. He was being genuine this time; he really understood what the pastor was telling him, unlike a few minutes ago where he wanted to keep lying.

He couldn’t hide the truth anymore.

“Pastor Mike?”

“Yes?” the pastor asked.

“There’s one more thing I haven’t told you.”

Mike then readjusted himself, preparing to hear something even worse come out of Clay’s mouth.

“When I was getting angry with him, I did feel a little bit of hate, but… I don’t know why.” Clay’s expression turned a little downcast as he bowed his head a little forward.

The pastor then gave a small smile. “It’s okay, son. I know it’s tough, but we all will get through it somehow. I’m willing to help you out if you need some support.”

“Thanks, Pastor Mike,” Clay said, giving a sad smile. “But, can you do something for me?”

“Sure. What is it?”

Clay’s smile lit up a slight bit. “Call me Clay.”

The pastor’s smile also lit up a bit. “Sure, why not, _Clay?_ ” he ended with a little laugh.

There was a brief moment of silence. Since they had first started talking, they did not notice the choir still practicing for the Christmas performance. They started singing “Mary Did You Know” after a moment when the pastor finished.

 _“Mary did you know that your baby boy would one day walk on water?_  
_Mary did you know that your baby boy would save our sons and daughters?_  
_Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?_ _  
This child that you've delivered, will soon deliver you.”_

The teenager broke the silence. “So, how exactly are we going to fix this?”

“Well, we can start by talking about your brother,” the Pastor replied.

“Sure.”

“Justin, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s his name.”

“Tell me more about him...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM BACK FROM A MONTH OF HELL (school and other crap)
> 
> So... Pastor Mike is a bit of a wise man, isn't he? I tried my best to voice the way my pastors talk to me. That's why I wanted him to sound fatherly. Church is actually a good place to just vent out your feelings, right? Lol!
> 
> So, what's next for Clay and Pastor Mike? What kind of stories are going to unfold? Also... will there be another character involved? All shall be revealed!
> 
> MERRY (late) CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!


	5. The Dumb Jock in Justin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What makes Justin a "dumb jock", according to Clay? He doesn't call him that for no reason.

“Well, he’s a bit more of a… I don’t really wanna say it again, though.”

“A ‘dumb jock,’ you said?” Pastor Mike finished.

Clay felt a little guilty to think this way, but he couldn’t really deny with the way he thought of his brother. He was a bit of a… well, in his defense, to say he was a “dumb jock” was a bit too much; but, to be fair, he wasn’t so much an academic person, to say the least.

“Not really,” Clay responded, a tone of surprise stirred in his voice, which was accompanied by a defensive hand raising up at the pastor. “Yeah, he’s just… he’s more of an athletic person, I guess.”

The pastor readjusted his glasses, a look of confusion making its way on his facial expression. Couldn’t this kid get any more unclear with him about… anything? Anything at all? Even though he was a bit anxious to find out, he positioned himself to embrace the truth from the teenager’s lips.

“So, what kinds of things would he do? Can you give an example?” Pastor Mike asked Clay.

Clay pondered at the question. Has there ever been a time that really showed Justin’s character as a “dumb jock,” as he liked to call him?

Oh yeah. Clay nodded his head, looking up back at the pastor again.

It was after the first math test Justin had in senior year.

****

**Friday, August 31, 2018**

The bell just rang for the end of fifth period, which meant the start of the lunch break in Liberty High. Walking out of English with the substitute ( _Ms. Cusick, of all teachers!_ ), Clay knew that his brother wasn’t gonna have the best day in the entire year. The sense of apprehension crept up Clay’s body like Monty’s goons, who want to shove him in the blue lockers he passed by every day.

He could still remember the things both Zach and Scott said about the test while Clay was in the library tutoring them. From what he heard, he knew it was gonna be hard on Justin.

 _“Dude, I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t remember shit about math last year! And now, they’re making us study about trig again? Jensen, bro... help us out!”_ Scott smiled as he shoved his new tutor with a friendly push.

 _“Bro, look at the bright side. Clay’s already in AP Stats. He’s done this shit before,”_ Zach, sitting adjacent to Scott on his left, gave the same friendly shove towards Clay as his teammate did.

Clay smiled. Ever since the court case of Hannah Baker, he started to let himself relax around the jocks a little more. With a little encouragement from his new brother Justin, he was able to get out of his introverted, nerdy “Clay-hole,” as Tony calls it, and talk to some of the other cliques more. To his surprise, they really weren’t as bad as they seemed; people like Zach, Justin, and Scott, while they try to look tough, act like playful “bros” whenever they’re with him. It felt quite nice for Clay to be friends with people who live completely differently than him, to be honest.

Speaking of Justin, where _was_ he?

Justin’s test was over, and as Clay was walking out of the English room, he was trying to find where his somewhat dumbass of a brother could be off to now. He decided that the cafeteria was the first place to look. He knew his brother wasn’t gonna have a great experience right after the completion of the test.

Clay whizzed past some of the freshmen (the “new recruits,” as he liked to call them) who were lost and finding their way in the halls, which allowed him to finally make it to the cafeteria. Along the tables near the windows, he could make out some of his friends: Jess and Alex were sitting side by side, Sheri and Zach sitting across from them.

_Damn it. He’s not there._

Frustrated, Clay went up to them, hoping not to get confronted by Monty’s goons (an attempt that failed when one of them shoved Clay on his right shoulder, causing him to lose his balance momentarily) and stood in front of them. “Hey guys, have you seen Justin?”

Jess and Alex shook their heads after waving to Clay, while Sheri was the first to respond with a simple, “I dunno, Clay.” Turning to face Zach, who wasn’t paying attention, Sheri then said while softly shoving Zach, “I think Zach would be able to know where he is, right Zach?”

Zach’s head continued to face downward, facing the salad on the table he brought from home. His fork, carried by his right arm laying on the table, still continued to go back and forth from the salad to his mouth.

“Zach!”

Zach’s head amusingly shot up from Sheri’s exclamation, a dumb smile appearing on his face. “What? Oh sorry.”

“Zach,” Sheri asked, cringing at Zach’s touch of stupidity, “do you know where Justin could be right now?”

Putting down his spoon, he raised his eyebrows at the group’s faces. “I really don’t know, guys. Have you tried the gym?”

Clay also got his chance to raise his eyebrows. “The gym? At this time? Why there?”

“Well, I mean, he _did_ say that he had been having the shittiest day at school today. He usually goes there to play some ball. ‘Says it’s his way of letting out some anger, I guess,” Zach explained.

_Basketball. Of course._

“Do you know if he was a bit nervous or out of it today?” Clay leaned in a little towards Zach.

“Kinda. I took my test with him, and he looked a bit pissed after that math test today. Oh, and by the way, thanks for those tips. Made a bit more sense with the whole introduction,” Zach complimented, an act that was succeeded with a pat on Clay’s forearm, which lied near his position on the table.

“No problem, Zach.” Clay shifted his gaze to Jessica and Alex. “Have you two seen him?”

“Not really,” Alex answered, “although, I might’ve seen him walk past me toward the gym. That’s also my best guess.” Jessica nodded as Alex finished, a gesture of agreement.

“Thanks, guys,” Clay said, before taking off through the southern entrance towards the gym.

 _The gym._ Why didn’t he think of that before? After all, Justin _was_ the co-captain of the basketball team. As well as that, on a few occasions, he did ask Clay if he wanted to join along in a game or two near Eisenhower Park. He is the complete opposite of how Clay would spend his free time; instead of playing a sport that would eventually get him a concussion by a basketball to the head, he would rather spend his time just thinking about the newest comic, finish drawing his own space comic, and sometimes, imagining Sheri in a--

“FUCK!”

 _Yup, that was him,_ Clay thought after his inner rambling came to a pause.

As he neared the gym doors, he could hear the sounds of a basketball bouncing on the floor. Clay peeked inside to find the curly-haired athlete in his #33 basketball jersey ( _He’s stupid enough to change his clothes in the open gym, where everyone could see._ ), his letterman jacket laying on one of the bleachers next to his open lunch ( _He didn’t even touch the pasta that Mom prepared for him._ ), and the sweat that drenched his jersey while he was dribbling the ball and circulating the court.

He was literally the only person on the court at the moment. Basketball season hasn’t started yet, and it was a sunny day; there was no reason for anyone to be in the gym. Well, everyone except Justin.

Clay observed how Justin was preparing himself to make a free-throw from the left. As he squatted and raised the ball in his hands, he eyed the parabolic path that the basketball would make; Justin then threw the ball at the basket, only to bounce off the rim and fall away from it.

“Fuck!” he yelled. With his cross eyebrows and the aggravated tone in his voice, it was clear that rage was surging in his veins. He ran towards the ball and threw it rigorously back at the center of the court, yelling with his might.

_He’s gonna kill someone. He’s gonna kill the teacher. Best to step in now._

Clay attempted to make his way toward the athlete in an attempt to calm him down. However, since Justin was so focused on practicing, he stopped himself from stepping in so that Justin wouldn’t accidentally hit him with the ball.

So Clay got his brother’s attention with the only way he knew how: being an annoying motherfucker.

“Mom made you that pasta. I’ll tell her you didn’t eat it.”

Justin’s train of thought stopped as he turned around. “Clay! What’re you doin’ here, man?” he asked as he greeted with Clay with the handshake-thing that the jocks like to do ( _His hand is sweaty as hell. Disgusting._ ).

“I could ask you the same thing,” Clay countered.

Justin sighed, knowing what he said was true. “I’m just messing around with the fuckin’ basketball. It’s not that big of a--”

“Dude, you looked like you could kill someone with that,” Clay interrupted. It was clear to Justin that Clay knew there was more behind his anger. “It’s that math test, wasn’t it?” Clay asked.

Justin nodded, a little shame coming over his demeanor. “It’s like some of the things that we went over just magically disappeared, bro. Like, the problems didn’t make any sense. I tried, Clay, I really did! It was just so fuckin’ hard.”

“Justin, oh my God…” Clay slowly brought up his palms up to his face. “Did you even remember the whole ‘secant, cosecant, cotangent’ thing?” Clay asked, muffled by the hands that went over his mouth and the front of his face.

“Oh, shit…” Justin also facepalmed. “I forgot,” he said, making a sound between a laugh and a sigh of anger.

“Justin, we went over this! That’s like, the basics of trig!” Clay raised his voice. He knows for a _fact_ that he was introduced this last year. A sigh came over him as he realized that his entire tutoring session last night with Justin was a complete waste. An hour-- _a whole hour_ \--was wasted on the test.

And here he was, playing basketball _ten_ times better than Clay could ever play.

“Justin, how are you able to fail this when you can play basketball like a fuckin’ pro?!”

“I don’t know, bro!” Justin exclaimed. “You don’t think so hard when it comes to ball! All you do is just shoot, dodge, screen, and play. You make a plan before the game, and then you just... _play_. It’s simple, unlike that fucking test!”

“Really, Justin?”

“Yeah! Bro, it’s not that hard!”

Rage simmered in Clay. Even though Justin was extremely capable in this sport, Clay, on the other hand, was shit. Complete and utter shit.

“Here, Justin. Give me the ball,” Clay asked, and Justin tossed the ball towards Clay.

“Let’s see how _easy_ you say it is to play this game.” Clay took the ball in his hands and, without thinking, threw it at the basket. As expected, the ball missed the basket by a huge margin; Clay then smirked back at his brother, his point proudly made.

“You half-assed that shot,” Justin muttered, amused at Clay’s performance.

“Dude, it doesn’t matter!” Clay exclaimed. “Basketball is hard as fuck for me! It’s not for you because you _became_ good at this sport. You had a lot of practice, and you trained to become good! Really fucking good at this sport!”

“Clay, I’m not that great--”

“You’re the fucking co-captain!” His emotions got to a point where he was flailing his arms at Justin. “And I’ve seen you play before! You’re amazing!”

Justin was a little taken aback. “You have?”

“Justin, Mom took me to one of your practice session last year, remember?” Clay responded. “I even saw one of your games in Eisenhower Park yesterday! You, Zach, and that other dude were amazing!”

Justin laughed. “His name’s Willem, man.”

“I don’t give a fuck! Point is, you got this good because of practice! And that’s what you need, Justin. You need some practice with math, so you could remember some of the shit that you learn in class!” Clay exclaimed. Energy from the exclamation also made him sweat; well, that, and the hot environment of the gym.

This whole thing was tiresome. Clay decided that he would pursue a different tactic: encouragement.

“You got this, Justin; I believe you can do this! You just need to practice more. Hell, if Zach and Scott can do it, you can too, ok?” He tried to sound supportive, even though his emotions didn’t want to allow it.

Justin laughed at his comment. “I’ll try, Clay. I promise.”

Both brothers sighed. They were both tired of this whole clusterfuck of an argument (a one-sided one, to be honest). It was tiresome when one of them behaved completely different with the other on certain topics, but eventually, they’d get to a point where they’d stop.

And that’s what really mattered.

Clay turned to Justin. “I’m sorry, Justin, for yelling at you. I just wanted--”

“Bro, I get it,” Justin said, smiling. “You care about me. Thanks, bro,” he said, giving a shove at his brother’s shoulder.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do,” Justin teased with a smile.

“Whatever, Justin,” Clay answered back.

To be honest, he actually did care about him. More than Justin would expect. Because of this, he thought it would be best if he offered time with him.

“Dude, sit down with me for a second. Tell me what was difficult on the test; maybe I can explain it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, but don’t make me change my mind,” Clay joked.

They both sat down on the bleachers and took out the math textbook. The argument took quite a long portion of the time they had remaining, so he was only to get in around 5 minutes of teaching content. At least Justin was able to understand something new (which was technically something that they _studied_ , but, whatever).

“Oh! So like, the 'S' was for the 'sine' thing, and the 'O' and the 'H' was for the..."

"Yeah, dude. That's why it's called 'SOH,'" Clay said as he stroked the bridge of his nose in a facepalm.

Justin's eyes widened, a smile forming his face. "So like, 'CAH,' means 'cosine,' or the adjacent side over the hypotenuse, then."

"Yes, Justin."

"Ohh! That makes _soooo_ much sense now!” Justin exclaimed, wiping his sweaty face with the towel from the bag.

“Oh my God, you really are a dumb jock…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, again!
> 
> First off, I know... school's a bit of an asshole, so I never got the chance to write. Also, mental health’s got me a bit down recently, but I’m striving forward through it! 
> 
> Today, however, I got some time and after sitting in a Peet's Coffee shop for 2 hours, I was able to complete this chapter!
> 
> Here we have an incident where we see Justin and Clay argue over things that define who they are as people. At first, I thought this was a bit stupid, but I realized that this was necessary because it really goes into who the Jensen brothers are, on an individual level.
> 
> In the next chapter, we’re gonna find out WHY this is such a problem for Clay, as well as get some more of Pastor Mike’s advice. Comment below if you wanna guess why this might be such a problem for Clay; I wanna hear your guys’ thoughts!
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for reading this chapter, and I'm gonna try to find the time to write more in the future!
> 
> -Ethan


	6. The Mean Jock in Justin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why could Justin's athleticism be such a huge problem for Clay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Some really homophobic language is used; this is not meant to support homophobia, but instead, used to show how severely vicious students could be towards others. If this is a little triggering, or it proves to be a really triggering subject, then it is advised that you may want to read with caution. 
> 
> WARNING AGAIN: On top of homophobia, a little reminder of feelings of depression and worthlessness, but hey... that's expected. 
> 
> Anyways, that's all for content warning. This will explain some stuff in the story. Hope you enjoy!

The funny thing was, Clay smiled at his recollection of this hilarious event with Justin in the gym. In hindsight, it was pretty funny the way that Justin was able to communicate his anger through the countless ways he threw the basketball towards the hoops with complete rage. Although he suffered a lot of difficulty afterwards from the math test, just the way he was able to articulate all of his anger to his brother was one of the events that Clay definitely never, ever wanted to miss. It was pretty funny, even though shit like this proves to be taxing for the young athlete.

And yes, Clay’s rationale always heads towards the direction of picturing Justin as an athlete; his athletic capabilities can never be denied as insignificant (Clay is _still_ trying to wrap his head around Justin’s 77 pushups _in a row_ ( _SEVENTY-FUCKING-SEVEN WHAT THE HELL_ ) vs. Clay’s measly 21 pushups ( _well to be fair, I did get beat up by Monty and his goons in the boys’ locker room, not 15 fucking minutes before, so of course my biceps had hurt like hell_ ) in the same time period). And this aspect of Justin will always be, despite the fact that the Jensens are complete nerds, a part of Justin that can never, EVER be taken away from him. Justin is, always was, and always will be a jock at heart.

That’s what makes the bond between Justin and Clay special; they are complete opposites, yet they _still_ found a way to be brothers…

… until shit hits the fan.

And then one would start to wonder: why could Justin’s athleticism be such a huge problem for Clay?

But right now, this “one” turns out to be the tuxedo-clad pastor sitting across from him.

“Clay,” Pastor Mike started, “why do you resent Justin as an athlete?”

The teenager just sat in the chair, staring aimlessly at the decorations of the church again.

“Clay.”

No response.

“Clay!” He spoke up, more clear this time.

The teenager, flustered by the raised voice of the fatherly pastor, raised his eyebrows back to meet the gaze of Pastor Mike. “Huh? Oh! Sorry, I was just…”

“Staring into the wall again?”

Although the walls were a massive sight to see alone, one could guess that Clay wasn’t just trying to appreciate their beauty; he was going through something in the moment. Something quite personal.

“Uh, it’s j-just…” Clay sputtered out. The words couldn’t come out. He tried his best not to falter the facade that he was perfectly fine.

The pastor was perfectly able to call bullshit on it, 100%.

“Look, there is a common theme between some of the popular sibling stories in the Bible. I mean, just think about Joseph and his brothers, or Jacob and Esau. What was the difference between one and the other?”

Clay knew he hadn’t been catching up on his bible trivia as much as he should have been. It’s still been a while that he actually paid really good attention in church. However, the names still seemed oddly familiar.

“I-I know that they are from the Old Testament... I guess…”

The pastor let out a little scoff, though it was one that was covered by a lugh. Clay didn’t take any offense to this reaction; it was kinda customary.

“Okay, basically, if you look at the story of… let’s say Jacob and Esau, you will find that Jacob’s personality was different. How so?” the pastor asked, tone raising in his voice as if he was going to make a point.

The pastor continued, “Jacob was more attached to his mom, while Esau was more of a brawler-type, strong person, just like your brother. Eventually, the mother then counseled Jacob to take the blessing of the father from Esau by trickery. Obviously, Esau got extremely mad, and they couldn’t reconcile for twenty years. Twenty years, Clay!”

Clay’s eyes widened, then lowered. These two brothers couldn’t get back together as brothers again for two decades. It all started with a fight, just like the one between him and Justin.

Only this time, replace the father’s blessing with a picture of a dead lover.

“So what can we learn from this, young man?” the pastor asked. Did he really need to fucking ask right now?  

After a pause, the pastor said, “Well, even though one of the lessons is to never get the chance to trick your siblings, one can say that God gives us different talents as brothers.”

Oh my God.

He _still_ doesn’t get the point.

Clay closed his eyes slowly, an attempt to calm himself before gradually resigning to internal rage.

“...so Clay, if you think about it, you can start to realize that every single one of us…”

A sense of rage started to overwhelm Clay. He couldn’t deal with this “holier-than-thou” man’s ignorance anymore.

“... _every_ one of us, as a brother in Christ, is different…”

The fact that Pastor Mike didn’t even care about how Clay was feeling clearly pissed Clay off.

“...and you can’t really change the beautiful nature of others. It’s God-given!”

_God-given. My ass. Enough’s enough._

“You know what?” Clay asked, voice slightly raised in exasperation. His eyes opened back up slowly and shot back menacingly at the pastor. “Just shut up! Like, for once! Just let me speak and shut… up!”

Pastor Mike was taken aback by the vicious response from the angsty teen. “I-I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, _stop_ with the ‘I beg your pardon’ crap! It’s not that simple!” Clay exclaimed, creating hand gestures that moved with extreme frustration in front of his body. His voice was at its angriest in the entire conversation, and it was rooted with a clear sense of pain and hurt, while his eyebrows crossed to the signature position that it always is whenever he gets upset. It was extremely clear that this became a little bit more personal than Pastor Mike would have imagined, and Clay’s entire facial expression is a clear manifestation of this pain.

He still let Clay speak. The choir director at the front was concerned as he was cleaning up his belongings, but… literally who gave a flying fuck if he was watching or not? Clay’s in pain, and he needs to get the pain out of him.

“It’s not as simple as an ‘Oh, we can find a story in the damn Bible that shows how my relationship with Justin is the exact same thing!’ No! This is something much more than that, and I _promise_ you…” Clay took a deep breath and closed his eyes to prevent a tear to flow down his angry facial expressions. He then continued on after re-opening his eyes with a tone much softer and wet from a lump in the throat, “... it’s much more than just being a dumb jock. Much more.”

Bingo. There it is.

The pastor readjusted himself after unleashing all of that pain from Clay. He organized his pastoral journal and notebook on the chair adjacent to him as he continued his session with the young, but heartbroken teenager. “So… what do you mean that it was ‘more than just being a dumb jock,’ as you said?”

Clay re-closed his eyes and looked down towards his shoes, shaking his head in an act of shame. He couldn’t bring himself to say what he was really feeling. Another little lump emerged in Clay’s throat as he was trying to hide some tears, but the feeling gradually left as he swallowed while looking back up at the pastor touching him on the shoulder with a calm hand.

“Son, what happened?”

As Clay brought his head back up to face the concerned and fatherly pastor, he answered in a low whisper, “H-he was s-so mean… such a mean guy...”

Pastor Mike’s face fell. “Justin?”

Clay nodded, still facing at his shoes with eyes closed.

Pastor Mike started to lose his words. “W-what do you mean? Like, isn’t he supposed to be your brother or someth--”

“This was… _way_ before we adopted him,” Clay interrupted while looking back at the pastor, opening his eyes to reveal a small, fallen tear flowing down his crestfallen face. “Way, way before… he became my brother,” he added.

“When did you and your family adopt him?”

“April,” he answered quietly.

“And when was he a ‘mean guy’ to you, Clay?”

He didn’t want to relive the pain he went through that time. He desperately didn’t want to. However, he knew it _had_ to be addressed in order for him to move on.

Fuck. This was harder than he thought.

“Freshman year,” Clay slightly sobbed out.

“Freshman year?”

Clay nodded in response after wiping his teary face with his right hand. The pastor knew that he was about to get into some deep shit.

“What happened in freshman year, son?” Pastor Mike asked in a very soft tone.

Clay didn’t respond to the question for a little moment, which led to an awkward pause of silence. After a good twenty seconds however, the teen was able to answer, but the response was a simple, six-letter word that every high-schooler hated. Clay looked back up to the pastor sitting opposite of him.

_“Rumors.”_

*****

**February 12, 2016**

Oh, fuck yeah. It felt great being a Tiger.

The Liberty Tigers’ baseball team had just defeated East County’s with a score of 9 - 4, which clearly raised the already-sky-high self-esteem of the baseball team, the entire school, and the entire Liberty High community, in general.

The success of the game was a result of the extreme athletic talent of the entire team, including some younger people that became its star members: some examples include Scott Reed, who was able to utilize his speed in order to create an astounding home run in the final inning, ending the game with a huge bang;  Zach Dempsey, who was able to utilize his skills from both basketball and football to catch a large number of the balls in order for the Liberty Tigers to defend their winning streak of the game; another fan favorite, sophomore Jeff Atkins was able to utilize some strength to bat balls towards the other side of the field, opening the door for a couple of home runs early in the game.

Though these teens identify within the younger subset of Liberty High’s athletes, they have been practicing and working out so much in order to develop themselves as star players of the team. And it’s not just these individuals that really developed their physical self to their standards of perfection; in fact, one could argue that a large majority of the athletes, including basketball, football, and baseball players, really took the step towards maturing themselves and getting their body into the right shape. One would never have guessed that people with the likes of Justin Foley or Bryce Walker were kinda wimpy-looking, not one or two years prior to their success in athletics.

There was a problem, though: as they developed their bodies physically, most of them developed a mean and vicious personality.

Justin Foley, in particular, was no stranger to this. The same could be said for Zach Dempsey and Montgomery de la Cruz.

Clay simply pondered sitting on a bench in the main hall, looking through the doors of the boys’ locker room. As Jeff’s tutor, that meant for Clay that a lot of people were going to praise Jeff in the halls, in the library, and basically everywhere, which would mean that his self-esteem would be frickin’ high, through the damn roof.

Clay’s relationship with Jeff Atkins was one like brothers, if he were to be honest. Jeff was a older than him, but Clay shared the same English and Math classes with him ( _Too bad there’s no AP history classes for freshmen! That’s fucked up!_ ), so he would usually help him out with his academics, while the jock would help him out with… girls. This unusual bond ultimately turned into a little brotherhood, where Jeff was the “older bro” and Clay was the “little bro,” and it was a special bond between a pair of students that couldn’t be any more different.

It was super heartwarming to think about.

Oh shit.

Clay noticed that he needed to use the restroom, but the only one that was nearest to him was in the boy’s locker room.

Ugh.

_I’d have to go through a room filled with naked people. Ugh, I wanna kill myself._

Clay raced into the front doors of the room, but surprisingly, there was no one in the room at the moment except for Jeff and Scott. He saw them topless while putting on their shirts as he ran to the end of the locker room, where the restrooms are. While he moved as swiftly as possible, it wasn’t enough to go unnoticed by the duo.

“Atkins, did ya see that dude?” Scott asked with a whisper.

“Yeah, bro, that’s Jensen.”

“Jensen? Who’s that?”

“Oh, he’s my tutor. You should totally meet him! Cool dude.” Jeff patted Scott on the shoulder. “Bro, why don’t we scare him? He’d lose his shit!” Jeff and Scott chuckled before stepping behind the bathroom door.

After Clay did his business, he walked over to the sinks. He turned the cold tap on and dispensed some soap into his hands. With Clay not facing the mirror, Jeff knew it was his chance.

“Reed, let’s go!” Jeff whispered to his teammate.

As they sneaked behind Clay, they held their breaths for the right moment to attack. And then, Jeff suddenly placed his hands on Clay shoulders and yelled, “Boo!”

“CRAP!” Clay shrieked, then turned around, only to find Jeff and another one of his friends he has never met before.

“Jeff, what the heck’s wrong with you?!”

Jeff put his hands in defense while laughing. “Bro, calm down! We just messin’ with ya, man.”

“If I wasn’t your tutor, I’d beat you up, you asshole,” Clay lightly snarled.

“Yo! Dude, you couldn’t beat us up if you tried! Two against one, and we’re way stronger than you. We'd kill ya easily!” The three laughed along to what Jeff said.

Clay glanced at Scott, then back to Jeff. “Jeff, who’s this person?”

“Oh, that’s Scott. Reed’s his last name. Pretty fast dude, and he’s one of my coolest friends! Reed, say hi!” Jeff said as he nudged Scott. “Oh, hey, man. Jensen, right?”

“Yeah. Clay Jensen. I’m Jeff’s tutor,” he said before shaking hands with Scott.

“Cool,” Scott said. “Well, that was some game there, right?”

“Yeah! Oh yeah. You and Jeff were amazing today,” Clay answered to Scott.

“Thanks, dude,” Scott said while Jeff nudged Clay’s shoulder with a smile as a means of appreciation.

“Yo, Jensen, we gotta go see coach about some plans. We’ll be outside, buddy. Okay?” Jeff asked.

Clay nodded, and Scott said, “Nice meetin’ ya” before patting his shoulder and leaving along with Jeff outside.

Clay smiled, then went back to get his stuff so that he could get out of the sweat-smelling room and leave.

That’s when the trouble happened.

What happened was that he found Justin Foley, Bryce Walker, and Montgomery de la Cruz on the benches next to Clay’s bag ( _How the fuck did they get in here? I swear I didn’t see them coming or entering through the door_ ). They were all smirking at him as he re-entered the room, before they stood up and walked over to him intimidatingly.

“Yo, Jensen, ‘the fuck you doin’ in here, man?” Justin asked, sounding a little slurred ( _maybe from all that damn liquor he’s drinkin’ or all that weed he's been smokin'_ ) as he held down Clay’s shoulder with some force. “Only athletes ‘sposed to be here, bro.”

Clay started to feel exactly how he knew they wanted him to feel. These were the bad jocks of the school, and they were always mean or some sort of bullying-type against the lowlifes, which, in this case, was him. “U-uh, nothing. Just had to use the restroom, guys,” he answered them, intimated by the jocks’ dominating composure.

“Really, dude?” Monty stepped in.

“Yeah! Promise! I knew this room is for athletes only,” Clay said.

The three of them laughed and looked at each other. Justin stepped closer to him, much more than Clay would have like, but at this situation, he had no choice. “Oh, we know that you know that, Jensen,” Justin said menacingly. “That’s why we think you came here looking for someone.”

“Me? Who would I be looking for?” Clay asked while giving an emotionless laugh, confused.

“Your boyfriend, ya  _faggot!_ ” Monty answered, making the group laugh out loud; Justin reacted by shoving Monty playfully and Bryce just laughed to himself while keeping his head down.

Huh?! What the fuck did they mean?! He clearly wasn’t into guys, let alone, guys from the same fucking school! What could they possibly mean by his “boyfriend,” and why would they call him a “faggot?!” Clay didn’t even think about how rude the term they were using actually is.

Bryce stepped in front of Monty to face Clay, taking over Monty’s position so that he was more in-front of the wimpy teen. “Look, we know you’re good friends with Atkins, and we heard about your… _identity_.”

_You’ve got to be kidding me._

_The gay rumors._

_No wonder why people gossip about the whole “Cleff” thing. Now this just proves it!_

“... so just please, if you need to be gay, please do it anywhere else but here,” Bryce said, with a smug but somewhat commanding tone of voice.

Justin spoke up. “Yeah. We don’t need Jeff to _school_ you like you do to him in _tutoring_ , dude,” he said, which made Monty laugh super hard.

“Ha! Damn! I never knew he was a real sucker for jocks like Atkins, but you’re just full of surprises, Jensen,” Monty insulted. He then came up closer to Clay so that he was shoulder-to-shoulder wit him, gripping his shoulder as he quietly continued in Clay's ear, “But.. fuck, if you wanna be a lil’ bitch to our gang, why didn’t you say so? I’m open to fags, bro.” 

Clay felt extremely numb. He was just completely in shock. His entire image is ruined. Because everyone looks up to these so-called heroes, everyone will believe them when they all talk about how Clay “wanted to see Jeff naked and ultimately do some really disgusting shit in the locker room,” or how Clay “gets off over the sight of his body,” or something really disgusting that would totally destroy his reputation. Something that would destroy the masculinity people see inside him, and ultimately, his entire definition by how people look at him. Clay kept his eyes down to the ground, knowing there was nothing to do to stop these teens from destroying his emotional well-being.

Justin noticed this. “Yo, why you lookin’ at the--” he paused, then laughed. “Dude, don’t even try it. Not here, like we said. Don’t start acting up in here, I promise you don’t want to!” he ended by shoving Clay on both shoulders, then a burst of extreme laughter with his buddies. He sounded super high right now, which probably attributed to his lack of regard for his word choice.

Still, Clay didn’t care if he was crying or looked extremely emotionless because of it. Everything was too much to handle, and the fact that Justin and his buddies have been a part of this made him feel much more worthless.

"Dude, that's fucked up. Lay off him, man." Bryce held a hand on Justin, who was laughing his ass off. “Guys, enough. Just leave this dude alone. Come on.”

As they finally left, Justin and Monty kept laughing to himself as they walked behind Bryce. They kept looking behind to see Clay, before continuing their streaks of laughter that followed them until they reached the door.

Clay was crushed. His entire self-esteem has just gone way down, knowing there’s nothing he could do to stop any damage that could happen after this. The eventual cyberbullying, the inevitable cyber gossipping, the complete amount of shudders people will receive whenever they associate Clay to a fag who’s attracted to star baseball players; none of this can be stopped.

And it was all because of Justin, Monty, and Bryce.

The funny thing was that he expected it from Bryce and Monty more because they act like that sometimes. But Justin? Not so much. He never really acted anything mean or nice to him, so he thought Justin as ok. Yet, instead, he’s apparently proven himself as someone who is hurtful and makes fun of things about people that are definitely not true. He’s one of those people who could destroy you based on one simple aspect of your life. He seems like the person who could destroy the entirety of who you look like only because of opinions. He is like a person who could destroy you with a crush of a hand, and there’s nothing you could do about it.

He’s like someone who could eventually win your trust, then shatter it by calling you a faggot and making fun of you because of one simple, mindless thing.

He could almost be like an evil brother, in a way.

The young teenager reserved himself into a fetal position against the walls. Normally, sweat would usually be dripping off athletes’ bodies whenever they are in this dressing room.

But right now, it wasn’t sweat.

It was tears.

Tears of sadness and hopelessness.

It couldn’t get better.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there again!
> 
> Yay! I finally got time to write again!
> 
> So this chapter was really meant to get into the context of how Clay might have had to deal with the gay rumors he mentions in 1x01 in freshman year. I wanted to incorporate how Justin may have played a part in making this worse for Clay, which is how his athleticism can be a stark reminder of the person he used to be. 
> 
> For context, Justin and Monty are pretty stoned and drunk at the moment. That's what happens when you're friends with Bryce Walker. 
> 
> Now, just to be clear, I’m not supportive of homophobia. But, I wanted to shed light on the heteronormative and toxically masculine culture of Liberty High; we’ve seen already in S2 that there are really sick-minded people who use terrible language, and sometimes, people like Clay feel offended by it because they can’t do anything to clear any of it up. That’s the reason why I wanted to gloss over this issue: to show how a rumor could destroy your feelings. This is the language that I've seen in my school, and how Clay's emotions dwindled down is representative of my past experiences; so, this was my rationale. 
> 
> Now, I know I promised some advice, but I promise that's coming along the way next chapter! 
> 
> Anyways, I am so happy I got some time to work on this, and I am so grateful for the reads and the comments I am receiving. Thank you so much for reading and commenting, as well as giving a kudos. Means a lot to me.
> 
> So, I'll see ya'll in a lil' while soon. Thank you so much for any feedback you are willing to tell me!
> 
> -Ethan


	7. God-Given Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When does bullying become too far?
> 
> Answer: When it starts to feel like you have no one to help you. 
> 
> Pastor Mike is about to discover a whole new layer of bullying Clay endured. In return, he offers a new layer of enlightenment to Clay about who the people in his life really are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: References to harassment, homophobic bullying that's completely based on rumors, as well as angst that's meant to break your heart.
> 
> Enjoy!

Tears were welling up in Clay’s face.

No. Scratch that.

Tears were _streaming_ down his face. Like a fucking waterfall.

Clay sat in the same chair he used to tell the story of the locker room incident. The pastor next to him had asked him a question about how a jock could affect Clay, simply because of his… jockiness. However, had he known that this had been much more than just a simple prejudice against good-looking, popular athletes and instead an issue of “I was humiliated in a locker room because people assumed I was a fag and less than of a man than everyone else,” he wouldn’t have asked the question. He wouldn’t have gone to a point where he had to resort to laying a hand upon the crying teen’s shoulder, comforting him throughout the entire breakdown.

But, somehow, Mike felt grateful. He felt so grateful that he was able to get into a part of Clay that he himself wouldn’t let other people know about. Not only was it definitely a turning point in the conversation between them, but it almost felt like a turning point for Clay. To Mike, the skinny, pale teen sitting down and crying next to him didn’t really seem like a very open person when it came to trauma. So, despite the fact that Clay had experienced a massive amount of trauma in the past year-and-a-half, a moment of complete reflection and openness about a very painful experience was ultimately something significant for him.

Mike continued to console with him by placing a fatherly hand on his student’s back.

“Son, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about what happened, Clay…”

Clay continued to sob in his chair crouching in order to hide his tear-stricken face as much as possible, using strategies such as bending his shoulders a little inward to himself. He felt his throat trickle with mucus that constricted his throat. Taking his constant sniffling out of consideration, Clay continued to keep silent as he lightly sobbed to himself, keeping a desolate stillness that lingered in the air for around twenty seconds.

Finally, he spoke up. 

“H-he hurt me. _They_ hurt me.” 

His voice sounded raspy and congested, but quiet as if it was a whisper.

“Justin, he… h-he made everyone in the school give me a hard time,” Clay continued while sniffling. “He and his group made me feel like I was nothing. Like I was less than everyone.” He looked back at the pastor with bloodshot eyes and reddened face. “He hurt me,” he added in a whisper as another tear dropped down from his face.

Mike then took his hand off of Clay and outstretched his right arm around Clay so that he placed his student in a brief and light side hug. 

“I’m so sorry you went through this,” he said to Clay. “I’m sorry that they bullied you like this. I honestly had no idea that those athletes can do something like this...” Mike then let his student go from his arm and seated himself back to where he was originally.

“It’s just that…” Clay paused himself for a little bit, trying to clean his face a little with his hands. “...they--Justin, and Bryce, and Monty-- they controlled my fate. They had so much power because of who they are. They’re dominant and superior, and everyone loves them and copies everything they do. So when they’d hurt me, everyone hurt me too…” he ended quietly, with some sniffling and wiping of tears.

“What do you mean they hurt you?”

Clay shook his head at a frequent pace before looking down again.

The pastor instantly regretted asking. “Son, it’s alright, you don’t have to answ---”

“No, no, it’s all right, it’s just…” Clay breathed in before looking back up from his lap. “They would tease me and call me names…”

“Who’s they?”

“Everyone,” Clay whispered. 

The pastor’s face continued to fall. “What names did they call you?”

“The F-word…”

“Wait, so like, f-u-c---”

“No, the other one.”

The pastor looked a little confused. “Wait, there’s _another_ one?”

Clay then made knowing eyes that met Mike’s, which then made Mike have a realization.

“Oh! You mean--” his face then fell again, “...oh, that is so cruel. That is just the worst thing you could do to someone--”

“No, there’s worse,” Clay interrupted. “They have done… _way_ worse things… to me.“ His voice died down in a little volume.

“Really? What do you mean?” Mike’s face said it all. He didn't like where this was going.

“They would…” Clay hesitated, feeling like he was almost about to break down again. “T-they would… _t-touch_ me.”

“Touch you? Where?” Mike hoped he wouldn’t hear what he was afraid of hearing.

Clay’s eyes glistened with tears again, and some of them feel down his cheek. “They would touch me on… the ass, and they would call me ‘thick’ and laugh at me. They didn’t care where we were; they would just do it all the time freshman year...”

Mike’s heart, which had already been shattered, just broke into even more pieces.

“And the worst part was,” Clay continued, “I couldn’t do anything. They made sure of that,” he whimpered, trying to hide another tear.

Mike gripped his student’s shoulder again. “Son… th-that’s so-- I-I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.” Again, his composure lowered as he turned to crouch himself forward at his student in an attempt to try to console with him by showing compassion.

Clay continued in but a small whisper. “There hadn’t been a week in school when someone didn’t call me a faggot, or a queer, or even just ignored me. People made my life hell. People I didn’t even know!” He looked back up, facing Mike with an expression of pure, tangible grief and pain. His red, puffy eyes spoke volumes of the suffering he endured in his past. Clay didn’t even need to say a word to describe how much pain he felt.

“W-why didn’t you want to t-tell anyone about this?” Mike asked, stammered by both confusion and compassion.

“Because…” Clay sighed. “I didn’t want people to think that was true.”

Another moment of silence filled the air, which lasted for a good minute or two. Clay had cleaned himself with the right sleeve of his black denim jacket, drying away all the tears on his face. His breathing, despite its constant shuddering, has slowed into a deep, steady pace. The mucus in his throat was still there, which made talking a little embarrassing for him, but he didn’t seem to care as much as he normally would feel. For the majority of this minute, Clay still spent time averting his eyes from the pastor and the way he was staring at him. Had Clay looked up and faced him a little more, he probably would've noticed the silent tears that fell on Mike’s face.

“Is that the reason why it’s hard to forgive your brother?” 

The question took Clay by surprise. He furrowed his brows in confusion. “W-what?”

“Clay, you came in here because you were upset that he broke a sacred picture frame. One that included a photo of you and Hannah. But, can you tell me honestly if freshman year made it much easier to get angry at your brother for everything he’s ever done?”

Clay pondered for a minute, then sighed again before nodding his head. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“Are you still afraid of him?”

“A little.”

“How often do you think about what happened to you, son?”

“Like, maybe every now and then. But it still hurts!” He brought his hands up as he raised his voice.

“I know, son,” Mike calmly replied. “Have you forgiven him yet?” 

Clay paused and closed his eyes. “No, Mike. I don’t think so. I just… I c-can’t” he answered with shame. He expected Mike to criticize him any moment now.

Instead, Mike’s voice still retained its calm tone. “That’s okay, son. Remember, we’re humans, and sometimes we fail God by not forgiving other people. But it’s important that, although our own brothers might have been so rude to us in the past, we try to let some of our anger and hatred go away.”

“But Mike, you just saw how much they hurt me! How can I _not_ hate him? Hate _them_ for the way they hurt _me?_ ” Clay asked, raising his voice a little.

“Because, my son…” he took a deep breath. “It’s not what Christ would want.”

“But it’s so hard!”

“I know, but let me tell you something that will make it easier.” Mike rubbed his hand on Clay’s trembling shoulder in a circular motion. “You may not see it, but all the time, God makes it possible so that there’s always someone there. And even if it may seem like there really is no one there, we still have one person who’s always with us, and that’s our Father above.”

Clay nodded his head.

“Your friends? They’re God-given gifts. Your family? Also God-given gifts. Even the people around us that we don’t know have God-given hearts that can be used to help us out! And I promise you that if you talk to them, use your gifts, appreciate them, it lessens the pain. Does that make a little sense?”

“Yeah… I mean, a little,” he answered.

“I mean, haven’t you ever noticed that before, Clay? You know, like someone just so happened to be there when you had a tough time, and it seemed like… it wasn’t dependent on your timing, but rather, someone else’s? Like, it was just meant to be?”

Clay pondered for a minute, then nodded. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

“And it’s often one thing that we don’t even think about, you know? But, it’s always when we look back we see that everyone who helped us out in our toughest times had a small chance of being there in the first place… but still, God’s will of love prevails, and we are always surrounded by people who love us, and these people are some of His gifts.”

Clay’s crying eventually lessened and he was able to form a little smile with his reddened cheeks. Mike’s arm then wrapped around his student’s shoulder and he continued, “I mean, think about it, Clay. It was definitely a bad experience, but… did you happen to notice if anyone tried to help you up? Pick you up from the floor? Stayed with you for a moment and made you feel like you were next to love, and hope? Have you ever felt that when… when they bullied you? Even if it was just one time?”

He took a little moment to ask himself that question, too. Had there ever really been a time when someone actually helped him? Picked him up of the floor out of the bellows of depression? Saved him from being hard on himself? Had there ever been a time when, during that year of hell, someone actually did something for him and stop the pain?

Clay closed his eyes and looked through all the memories. All the times that he was bullied, picked on, loudly gossiped about in public.

And then it hit him.

He nodded, a little smile starting to form on his features. “Yeah.”

The pastor smiled and continued with his calming voice. “And lemme ask you something: when this person was there, did everything -- the pain, the hurt, the anger, the _hatred_ \-- did it go away, even if it was just for a tiny second?”

Clay shrugged, but the smile was still there. “A little, but… I felt better. Way better. Like, the weight was just lifted off my shoulders for a tiny bit, or someone decided to help me carry it, I guess.”

Mike’s face shined a little brighter. “See, my son? To me, I think that was God’s way of helping you out. Like a--” he stammered, trying to find the right words. “L-like a little flower in the depths of a thorny bush. But, believe it or not, if you go explore this thorny bush a little more, you’ll start to see that there are more flowers than you’d think.”

Clay became confused. “Wait, what? I didn’t get it.”

The pastor chuckled, and so did Clay. “It was supposed to be a metaphor, sorry.” And for a tiny second, the pastor and the student just sat there smiling at each other, like there was a brief feeling of contentment.

Pastor Mike then spoke again. “So… can you tell me who this person was?”

Clay looked down, then chuckled to himself a little. “It was actually Jeff.”

Mike’s eyes widened. “Jeff? You mean, the guy that people said you had a crush on?!”

“Yeah,” he smiled.

“Well, do you mind if you can talk to me about what happened?” Mike asked.

Clay took a deep breath. “Don’t be surprised if I cry, Pastor Mike.”

Mike’s concern suddenly shot through the roof. “Oh no, no, no! If it’s hard for you to tell the story, then it’s fine--”

“No,” Clay interrupted calmly. “I can do it. I _want_ to do it. I’m sure.” He smiled at his pastor.

“Okay, young man, so where do we start?”

Clay took another deep breath. “It was around a few weeks after the locker room incident…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK *yay!* SUMMER BREAK IS HERE, and I'm so so sorry again for the three-month-long absence. The year had ended for me, which included some tough, content-filled projects left for me to complete. But don't worry about them; your boy ended the year with STRAIGHT A's! *whoop whoop* XD
> 
> I have also gotten myself interested with the "Robin" fandom: Dick Grayson and Batman and all that! It turned out that the DC universe also has another group of adoptive brothers that pretty damn love each other. Yeah, they're superheroes, but once you get past that, they're actually pretty cool! I just started writing fanfiction about that as well, which also covers Christmas and lightly touches themes about church as well. If you're interested, go check it out!
> 
> Also, this chapter was supposed to be just an inch under 6,500 words. That's right; sixty-five hundred words! But, at the last minute, I decided to split this into two chapters, as I thought that it was important to grasp the different parts of the chapter slowly and analytically.
> 
> Poor Clay... Yeah, it was pretty hard for me to write that, but to be honest, although I haven't actually seen or experienced this first-hand, I do believe that it is, unfortunately, the nature of my fellow teenage friends to act in this sorta way. This is why it's important to mention this topic.
> 
> Pastor Mike's message was heavily inspired by that post of KJ Apa (Archie on "Riverdale") on Instagram with him praying with his co-workers. It reads, "...I believe that God carefully places people in our lives right when we need them. The perfect moment - when we need to learn something powerful that we wouldn’t have learnt on our own." I felt inspired by this message, and I felt it was something that I needed to include. It also fit in with the plot nicely, so I liked it! 
> 
> Link to the post: https://www.instagram.com/p/ByYKgQzlkKW/ 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and I hope you guys are having an amazing summer as well. As always, comments and feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	8. Not All Jocks Are Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing will ever change the fact that Clay's first brother wasn't, in fact, Justin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: foul language, explicit references to both harassment and depression will be covered in this chapter. This is a representation of what happened the chapter before; therefore, if you do not feel comfortable reading this, you may choose not to if you so wish.
> 
> Anyways, here's the next chapter of my story!

**March 25, 2016**

It has been a little over a month since the locker room incident, and in the past month, Clay learned one rule that will stick with him for the rest of his life (or, at least freshman year).

 _Never_ go into the locker rooms, or even the bathrooms. Again.

Yes, the locker rooms. The place where all men get to change their clothes during passing period. The place where all men get to shower in a communal space for a limited amount of time. The place where men get to see sides of other men that they’ve never seen before (and regret seeing). The place where men can bully and spread rumors. 

And the same can be said for the bathrooms, a communal place where guys can communally piss, shit, and spread dirty talk with others away from the halls.

Third period just ended, which everyone knows is PE for the freshman guys. He just had his fitness test on the baseball field, along with the rest of the freshmen guys. To summarize what happened, the star athletes (Zach, Bryce, Monty, Justin; or simply, “ _that”_ group) scored excellently, earning more brownie points from Coach Rick and Coach Patrick, who kept overseeing the testing; meanwhile, the “weaker” students (aka, the “nerds” and “weirdos”) would usually land on the failing end of the spectrum. 

Usually, a guy like Clay would fall in the middle of the two, but given everything going on, he wasn’t able to perform as best as he could. His headspace wasn’t in the right state, and slowly but surely, his physical performance was able to reflect that. For example, his mile-time increased by a margin of a whopping two-and-a-half minutes from the last mile-run, due to his long, constant pauses in between. At the end of his mile run, people noticed that he was almost in tears, and they kind of had an inclination of why.

Clay waited to be one of the last people on the field, not giving an absolute shit about the repercussions from his actions, just for the sake of being the last in the showers. But before that, he found himself near one of the drinking fountains next to the locker room doors.

_Perfect. Thank God there’s water here!_

He jammed his hand on the oversized button for the water to spew out of the faucet in a negatively parabolic manner. He then turned his head so that he faced his mouth towards the faucet and the ray of water. Clay savored every single drop of cold, tap water he was able to get in his mouth and swallowed contentedly. 

Suddenly...

… a **slap**.

On the ass.

Followed by Montgomery de la Cruz’s hand moving up Clay’s back and reaching for his right shoulder, with his arm enveloping his back into a side hug. But Clay knew that this hug had absolutely nothing to do with friendship.

“Hey, Jensen!” 

Low and behold, it was Justin Foley coming to his opposite side, in his wrinkled-up letterman jacket. Clay started to feel some butterflies in his stomach as both of the jocks inched closer to the skinny boy.

“Rough day, huh? Looks like you weren’t doin’ so well with the fucking mile run, eh?” Justin asked, almost trying to seem like he was making genuine conversation.

Clay wasn’t buying it. “Look, why does my mile time matter to you? You probably have a much better time than me anyway,” he said, hoping flattery will get him away.

“I just wanna… _hraaarh_ \--” Justin then yawned impolitely and aggressively towards Clay’s face. ( _Weed. No surprise there..._ ) “--just wanna know what time my friend got. You know we’re friends, right?”

Clay really hated where the conversation was going. “No. We’re not friends. Now can you please... tell your friend here to let go of my fucking shoulder?” he asked, jerking his shoulder as he stared back at Justin’s hazel eyes.

“Jeez!” Monty yelled before letting go and shoving Clay forcibly. “The fuck’s your problem?” he asked in a threatening tone. 

Clay just stood there, fearful of what’s gonna happen to him next; Justin cleared his throat after Monty yelled at him and spoke up.

“Look, man, sorry about that,” Justin said. “Bro, why don’t I make it up to you?”

_The fuck?_

“Jensen, like no offense, but you’re kinda an uptight pussy who only gives a fuck about school and grades and shit. We know it’s getting into your fucking head, so us jocks thought of something for you.” 

Clay scrunched his eyebrows, skeptical of the offer Monty and Justin about to give him.

Monty then placed his arm on Clay’s left shoulder so that Monty looked like he was leaning on him. He stepped in after Justin briefly finished. “So, the guys and I are partyin’ at Bryce’s house tonight! You know, that big-ass house near Eisenhower, near where all them rich people live? Yeah… he’s letting us use the entire fucking house! There gon’ be some ice cold beer, some dope, and hella girls that’re ours for the whole damn night!”

_Huh. A party… no, I can’t._

“We’re inviting you, Cory,” Monty whispered.

“Clay!”

“Whatever. You really _do_ seem so uptight! Bryce also says that, too.”

_I bet he did._

Justin tapped Clay’s back and spoke up. “Man, all we wanna see is you getting stoned of your fucking gourd and just having a _helluva_ time!” he said before playfully shoving Clay again, on his other shoulder instead of his back.

Clay pondered for a minute before responding to the offer. “No, I can’t.”

“Wait, what?! It’s a fucking party with the _kings_ of the fucking school!” Monty yelled.

It was at this moment when Jeff, Zach and Scott exited the locker room and headed next to the opposite wall, having a conversation about baseball (or football, or basketball, or whatever the fuck). Clay glanced at them slightly before looking back and shaking his head.

“No, guys. I can’t. I’ve got tutoring with Jeff in the library after school, so I’m not available. And, by the way... I know a ton of dudes who are better than all of you. So, please, both of you, leave me the fuck alone.”

Both Justin and Monty then turned around and saw the trio of jocks. Jeff in particular.

“Oh, _daaaaaang!_ ” said both Monty and Justin both before whispering close into Clay’s ear and smirking at him. 

“I see whatcha doing, Jensen,” Monty whispered after exchanging knowing looks with Justin. He then placed his hand back on Clay’s back.

“What do you mean?” Clay asked, confused.

He then lowered his hand to Clay’s lower back, then Justin chuckled. “Tryna be a slick little bitch, huh?”

Clay closed his eyes. The feeling in his stomach turned into that of a churn. He stood there, scared and frightened, but had nothing else to say. What could he say? What could he do? 

“Look, I don’t know why you’re into Atkins, but damn… he must be really good at topping you off, man!” 

Monty’s hand slid further down so that his hand was near his hip line. Clay started to feel nauseous and he started to sweat in his gym clothes. 

“Damn, Cory. That’s _tight_ as hell! No wonder why Jeff would want your ass!”

Clay’s heart rate began to speed up. A small tear started forming on his left eye.

“Look, Jensen,” Monty said before leaning into Clay’s ear. “We gave you a chance to be part of us, but now, you can fuck off and suck Atkins’ dick, for all I care. Everyone _knows_ you do it, so just go be his lil bitch.” 

Justin stepped in and ended with a quiet whisper. 

“Besides, we both know you want to. Jeff, me, my bro Monty... we know you want us. _All_ of us.” 

Monty then gave a light slap on Clay’s hip.

“Fuck! That’s tighter than some of the cheerleaders!” he laughed before heading out and rejoining Bryce and his other goons, who were coming along the hallway in the opposite direction. As Monty and Justin rejoined them, they started laughing and shoving each other as all of them glanced at Clay and continued to walk past him. 

At that moment, Clay instantly became sick. Anxiety surged through Clay’s veins and it ultimately made him feel his digested remains of his breakfast going back up his throat. His head retained light-headed as he tried to run through the door as fast as he could. This entire experience made him feel really shitty, as he then started to be on the verge of tears.

As Jeff was talking with Scott and Zach, he just so happened to be facing in the direction of where Clay was; so, as soon as Monty and Justin left Clay alone, he was able to shoot a glance at him and everything about him: the way his face looked when he was clutching his stomach like he was in pain, the way he was about to burst into tears, the way he was rushing to the locker room like he was gonna die without it.

He was confused about what happened with Monty, but he was totally convinced that something was wrong.

Really wrong.

As Scott and Zach kept talking about their results on the fitness test (“Bro, I got faster, man, by 50 seconds! What the fuck?!” “Seriously, man? Shit, I got a lil slower, dude…”), he tapped his hands on Zach and Scott’s shoulders. 

“Guys, I gotta take care of something. I’ll see y’all later.”

As Jeff left the duo alone, along with his sports equipment next to Zach, he raced through the navy blue locker room doors and stood for a minute, scanning the strangely empty locker room for where his little bro could be. 

What Jeff didn’t know was that Clay actually ran to the right side of the locker room towards the showers and the bathroom, going inside the latter to find an empty stall. Noticing with a glance underneath that there was no one else in the bathroom, Clay took the stall at the end of the entrance, locked the door behind him, and leaned inside.

It didn’t take a while to feel his breakfast come through his throat and for him to lurch over the toilet bowl and heave his pancakes and juice for breakfast out of his guts.

He kept spitting and gagging to make sure everything was out of his mouth, disgusted with the flavor of the sour stomach acids left in his mouth. 

His body kept producing sweat that trickled over his skin as he kept shuddering in complete intensity. And at that moment, he began to break down.

Clay turned his head away from the toilet bowl as it automatically flushed, and he started to cry. Weep. Sob. Tear after tear, his throat started to feel constricted as his chest kept pounding harder and harder. He simply slumped himself down on the floor in the stall as he leaned his head against the stall doors, crying to himself.

He hated his life. He hated everything. He hated everyone.

Meanwhile, as Jeff continued to walk around the different lockers in search of his little bro, he suddenly heard a sound that he has never heard before in the locker rooms: crying. Shuddering breaths. Weeping, like it was from complete and absolute despair. It was muffled a little bit, but he was able to hear someone crying on the right side of the locker room, near the showers. He ran to where the showers were, only to find that every single shower curtain was open, revealing completely empty showers that are unused.

Jeff still heard the crying, which he then deduced that it must have been coming from the bathroom. As he crept along the tiled floors, past the sinks and urinals, he was able to see a younger teenager slumped on the ground, in the farthest stall from the entrance. Jeff peeked under the gaps of the doors and walls of the partitions and saw Clay’s legs and upper body crouched together in a fetal position on the floor. It became unmistakingly clear that the crying came from him.

He had never seen his little bro crying as much as he was right now. Sure, he’d seen him pissed (such as that one time in the library when he couldn’t understand anything Clay was teaching him) or upset (such as that same time in the library when Clay freaked out about failing his test with a B-), but he had never seen him emotionally break down, especially like this.

He always saw Clay as someone with a smile on his face, inexplicably doing everything with a little joke here and there, but never had he thought of Clay as someone who can deal with such pain and torture all at once, and _still_ chooses not do anything but endure it until explodes out of him like it is exploding out of Clay right now.

Jeff knew there was only one thing he needed to do right now: make him feel better.

He walked swiftly towards the stall where Clay was crying in and knocked the door ever so gently. “Jensen? You in there?”

“What? What the _hell_ do you want? Gonna talk about me being a stupid fag?” 

Whoa. Jeff did not expect that. Clay’s voice sounded like he could kill someone. Still, Jeff continued to act like a good brother, be it by blood or simply by bond.

“Bro, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Clay chuckled. “Huh, that’s funny, Jeff.” 

“Jensen, come on. What’s wrong, dude?” Jeff asked, bewildered.

He started to scowl. “Like you don’t know what your friends are talking about. Like you don’t know what those jocks are calling me!” He started to raise his voice. “Like you don’t know how much they think I’m a worthless, piece-of-shit _faggot_ who likes to suck cock like a little bitch! Who likes to suck _your_ cock, in particular!” He ended with a bang on the door. 

Clay started to sob to himself again, throat starting to sound a little wet. “L-like you don’t know h-how much th-they’re h-hurting me…”

The fuck? What did Clay mean when he said that was called a faggot and a bitch? What did he mean when he said that he’s someone who would wanna suck his own manhood?

“Clay! Wha--what does that even mean?! Who’s telling you all this?!”

There was a moment of silence, in which Clay’s breathing and silent sobbing became tempered. His throat was still sore from crying, but he wasn’t full-blown sobbing anymore. He was just sad, his voice sounded as if he was completely miserable.

“Y-you r-really don’t know anything about what those _j-jocks_ are saying to m-me? W-what they’re _doing_ to m-me?”

Fear began to fill up in Jeff’s stomach. That question alone already meant that the answer was meant to be a thousand times more horrific. He didn’t know how to prepare himself for the worst.

“What happened, Jensen? Tell me, bro...”

Clay sighed, taking a deep breath before lightly sobbing again into his crooked form.

“Th-they’re just so… mean. S-so hurtful… the way they bully me… th-the way they touch me…” He bowed his head and crossed his arms against his chest in an effort to calm himself down, along with his intensive deep breaths. “Th-they keep calling me g-gay and they call me a _f-faggot_ and th-they keep--” he took a deep breath. “--they k-keep t-touching me l-like I’m a f-f-frickin’ s-sex object!” His heart rate began to re-escalate as he found himself sniveling to himself again.

Jeff was speechless. “C-Clay. W-w-what do you mea--”

“You know _exactly_ what I f-fucking mean! T-they keep saying that I’m your loyal _bitch!_ That I’m actually _trying_ my best to find a way to s-suck your dick through ‘tutoring’ because I l-like you!” His voice was raised now, but he didn’t give the slightest shit. “And y-yes! Th-they k-keep touching my ass and b-back, like I’m d-desperate! D-desperate for _you!_ Desperate for _t-them!_ ”

The anger. The rage. The hate. it was finally out of Clay. All of it. He felt that sensation in his stomach, much like the one he got in his stomach after he vomited in the toilet a few moments before.

Now that Jeff finally knows everything, Clay starts to feel broken. 

He was about to start breaking down again before he just so happened to hear his friend.

“I’m gonna kill them,” Jeff whispered to himself, and boy, was he livid. “I’m gonna whack them in the head with a baseball bat, goddammit! I’m gonna fucking kill them!” He banged the wall, causing him to scratch his own right fist. The scowl on his face seemed like it promised murder, and all Jeff could see in his eyes was red. 

Blood red.

Clay’s eyes widened. “No! Jeff, please! D-don’t do it, they’re just gonna… k-keep hurting m-me…” For the first time in the conversation, Clay’s voice turned into a soft whimper, almost like a scared puppy crying to his owner.

Jeff took a deep breath before calmly placing his hand on the stall doors. “Bro, I’m not gonna let them hurt you like that! Look at you, man! You’re crying on the fucking _floor_ of the bathroom! You’re in pain man, and I want them to pay for what they did to you! You don’t deserve any of this, Clay!” His voice was calm, but it was also full of worry and pain and compassion for his little brother.

Clay sniffled. “B-but wh-what if I do? Wh-what if I deserve all this? W-w-what if this is my p-punishment for something I’ve done?”

“Look. I’ve known you for the past two years, man. Even when you were still a fucking _cringy-ass_ 8th-grader, I’ve gotten to know more about’cha, dude.”

Clay chuckled a little bit, and so did Jeff before clearing his throat.

“For real, man; in those last two years of hanging out with you, I can definitely say this: you are the last fucking person in this entire goddamn school who deserves any of this shit. You’re nice, got a big heart, and fun to be around! You are the only person I know who would actually hang out with a stupid, dumbass jock like me and would be willing to help me out with my school work, even if you got a whole lot’other shit on your plate.”

A smile started to glimmer on Clay’s face.

“Hell, you’ve invited me over to your house just to help me out, and you’ve always made it clear that I was a part of _your_ fucking home... like, your family! You’re the coolest nerd I know in this school, and you’re an incredible friend! You’re my best friend! You’re…” he took a deep breath, before whispering softly, a small tear welling up in his eye.

“...you’re like my fucking brother.”

Clay’s eyes widened, even though he still faced away from Jeff.

“R-really? You really think I-I’m--”

“Fuck yeah, man!” Jeff yelled, enthusiastically. “I fucking _know_ you, bro! I know hella shit about you: the girls you like, the music you listen to, the nerdy comic book shit you do at home for free time…” 

Clay and Jeff both briefly chuckled together again before he continued. 

“Look, all I’m trying to say is that I know you. You’re like my _tiny-ass,_ little brother. The tiny-ass brother who’s always there for me and has my back. The tiny-ass brother whose back I have as well. The tiny-ass brother who genuinely gives a fuck about me every single day. The tiny-ass brother that I would protect in a heartbeat.”

Jeff shed a few silent tears before continuing to speak.

“Clay... you’re my fucking brother, no doubt. And I love ya man, and I give a shit about what happens to you. That’s why I’m here, to make sure you’re okay.”

Clay merely sniffled, trying to keep the smile on his face.

Jeff quietly knocked on the door with the knuckle of his middle finger. “Now, come on, lil bro. Can you get out of the stall so I can see you?”

Immediately, Clay stood up, unlocked the door, and opened it. He found Jeff, leaning on the wall next to the stall, looking with a face of complete concern and worry, trying to make sure that everything about his brother was all right. It was pretty obvious that he shed a few tears as his light red eyes and dried-up tear streaks on his cheeks were standing out against his brown complexion.

As Clay opened the door, what Jeff saw instead was a thin, skinny teenager who had extremely red eyes that could easily be confused with that of a bloodshot druggie. His cheeks also matched the eye’s color, shimmering bright red from the constant sniveling and sobbing. His hair was all messed up as he had leaned his head on the stall walls, and his face was still covered with some sweat from vomiting and crying.

To both Clay and Jeff, it didn’t matter how fucked up they looked to each other. As soon as the door made way for Clay to exit, he slowly walked towards Jeff before he was suddenly wrapped by strong arms crushing his tiny form. Jeff’s body was much bigger than Clay’s, but he was able to place his head snuggly on top of Clay’s shoulder as he began to rub his hands against his back, completely smothering himself against Clay in the vice-grip-like embrace. All he wanted to do was act like the caring big brother he needed to be for his little brother, and if it meant hugging him in the middle of a public boys’ bathroom, then so be _fucking_ it. 

Clay, on the other hand, was surprised, to say the least, but he wanted him to show brotherly, man-to-man affection like this. He didn’t mean sexual affection, and especially with a _guy,_ but rather something of brotherly hugs, embraces, and personal attention that was able to make him feel safe and secure was something that Clay ultimately needed. He longed for someone bigger, stronger, and older to hold onto him and check in on him, like a father would be for his child. Someone who was completely different from him, yet someone who would keep proving that they were, in fact, the same. Someone like that of an older brother. _His_ older brother. Someone like Jeff.

Which is why he just let Jeff hold him as tight as he could. He wanted Jeff to keep showing Clay his compassion and concern for everything that was going on in the teen’s life that caused him heartbreaking pain: everything that fucked him up, beat him to a pulp, and emotionally broke him down. And through this bone-crushing hug, that’s exactly what Jeff did.

Jeff proved that he wanted to be there for him, like a guardian angel watching his little human. 

As Clay sobbed into Jeff’s chest, Jeff smiled at his younger brother, face still leaned on top of Clay’s shoulder. As Jeff readjusted his arms a little bit, he whispered into Clay’s right ear, “I got you, brother. I ain’t gonna leave you or abandon you like those other dudes, man. And I promise you, I will never, _ever_ hurt you like that. You don’t deserve any of this shit happening to you, ya feelin’ me, bro?”

Clay made a small sniffle as he nodded his head against Jeff’s chest. “I-I ne-never thought you’d think of me as… a br-brother.”

“Bro, after all the shit we’ve been through together? Of course you’re my brother!” He gave Clay a tight squeeze. “You’re literally the closest thing I have to a lil bro, and look at me, man. All those baseball jocks talking like they’re the ‘fucking kings of Liberty High’? I mean, I see them as _friends,_ in fact, some of them are like my best friends! But I don’t see all of them as _brothers._ Know why?”

Clay shaked his head.

“Because you’re something they aren’t: genuine. Brothers are meant to have each other’s backs. And you’ve always been there for me, man. You’re a real brother, maybe not by blood, but by heart. And that’s something that I don’t say to a lotta people, because I really only have a couple people I really consider my brothers. You’re one of them, man.”

The younger teen couldn’t help but smile. He looked up to meet Jeff in the eye. “Th-thanks, man, and… you’re kinda like my brother, too.”

“Aww, Clay…” he placed his hands on Clay’s shoulders. “Thanks, bro. Know that I always got your back. But, dude… you gotta promise me something.”

“What?”

Jeff sighed. “You gotta promise me to tell things, man. As soon as shit happens, you gotta tell me. I need to know if shit hit the fan for you or not, ok?”

Clay cleared his throat. “Totally. Sure!”

Jeff smiled. “Oh! And another thing: for the record, man, it wouldn’t matter to me if you really _were_ gay. You’re still my bro and that will never change, ‘hear me?”

Clay nodded his head. “You know it’s not like that, right?”

“No, I know it’s not like that, but even so… look, all I’m trying to say is that you can trust me with anything. Absolutely anything. I’m always here for you, bro.”

“I’m here, too,” he said back to Jeff.

Smiles were basically shining on both of their faces before they hugged each other again. The grip was a little less stronger, but it still retained the same effect.

“I got you, bro. I’m here and I won’t leave you alone,” he whispered to Clay. He couldn’t help but smile, feeling safe in his friend’s, or rather, _brother’s_ arms. “Come on, let’s get to class,” said Jeff before patting his little brother on the back. 

Walking out of the bathroom, Clay took his stuff before washing his hands and face next to Jeff in the sinks. As they made it out through the doors, he couldn’t help but notice the arm that was wrapped him into a side hug. 

Maybe everything was pretty shit at the moment, but for right now, Clay was finally able to realize that he had a brother that he could always rely on, a brother that would always be there for him in his darkest moments of freshman year and the years to come. To Clay, he honestly felt like Jeff was a God-given gift, one that he had been longing for the longest time. And maybe, just maybe, this gift would finally be given to him.

Too bad he’s not around anymore to see his wish come true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY EVERYBODY!
> 
> 13 REASONS WHY SEASON THREE IS OUT!!!! AND I.... hate it? love it? I'm at the point where I don't really know what to feel about it. I'm only at episode 3x03 but there are already some mixed emotions; I'll explain to y'all if you guys want some understanding but at this moment, I'm completely underwhelmed, if not, a tad bit pissed off.
> 
> At this moment, I kinda wanted to capture a sense of brotherhood that blossomed before Justin Foley ever became a potential brother. I wanted to see that Jeff, although he already proves himself to be a good friend, could also go and prove to be a good brother. I want to picture Jeff as the bigger brother that Clay really had feelings towards; feelings of brotherly affection and... love. So, I just wanted to map this out, in order to show that Justin really wasn't the first brother Clay had.
> 
> So, let's check-in for a bit!
> 
> I'm currently starting another year of high school, but the workload just got 10x bugger. However, surprisingly, I'm not really freaking out as much as I thought I would. I'm honestly trying to make new friends and I'm trying to be more positive this year. 
> 
> I started going to church a little more often and signed up to help out with some of the behind-the-scenes stuff. I have a friend checking in with me every day to see if I'm okay, both in spirit and in mental health. I started becoming more grateful and I've realized that I need to be more responsible!
> 
> I've gotten obsessed with some other fandoms, along with 13RW, such as The Vampire Diaries and DC Comics (Jason Todd is literally the most badass superhero of all time; like, holy sh*t!). I think my life has gotten so much more different than it was a year ago.
> 
> Well, I just wanna thank you for getting a chance to read my fanfic. I will be find ing the time to write again soon, and if you have any comments, feedback, or some questions, y'all can leave them in the comments and I will happily respond!
> 
> So, yeah! Thank you guys so much! I'll see y'all in a little bit!
> 
> -Ethan


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